The Whimper of A Wolf's Daughter
by ThatTheaterFan
Summary: "That's none of your revolutionary business," She said. Betraying the real state of her figure; she needed help. Enjolras/Eponine/Montparnasse Movie Characters! Except, Montparnasse is Douglas Booth (Chapter 11 and so on is written in 3rd person.)
1. Prologue: Enjolras' POV

Hello there! This chapter is written on **Enjolras' POV**... Ya know guys? I really don't write on first-person Point-of-views but, I think that thing kinda explores the character with his feelings on a greater depth. Annnd I'm just 14, forgive my very lacking fic...

**Disclaimer:** I am clearly not one of those geniuses.

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I went early at Cafe Musain this morning; hoping for another idea to be raised among us. But yet again, nothing was ever raised so properly and the revolution is a mere scribble on our theories, I know that every successful move that has to be made is yet another day nearer to the revolution. We needed men, we needed arms, and we needed much support from people; I know that we could never match the force that the opposing side will unleash but this is the chance to make our country everything we wanted it to be; and I'm not just going to let that opportunity slide.

As I was fixing clean sheets of paper that smelled somewhat like coffee beans, probably stocked with the same room as where the beans are; I saw the boys entering Cafe Musain one by one. But it seemed like there is an addition this time, it looked like a boy in a huge overcoat and a brown cap that seemed too huge for his figure; one that was following Pontmercy. Then I begin to remember that this is the same person who always trails behind Marius, one that can be actually called his tail. I rushed to the stairs and took the center part of the Cafe to greet everyone. The idle chatter could be heard around the cafe in the same old routine; Pontmercy talking to Prouvaire about how in-love he is with a girl that he saw in the square. If you'll ask me, he is too foolish. Combferre debating medicine with Joly's unusual vivid theories, if you'll ask me what my opinion is about them, I'd gladly say that it's better to debate on which plan is better for the revolution. Grantaire seizing yet another massive bottle of brandy, that's what he is and will always, be. But most of all, we would always see this little boy in a massive coat in a lone end table silently watching Pontmercy, I for one do not know why. I greeted them all a good morning and started to talk,

"I know that that dawn of the day we await is still very much far from our grasp, but we need to draw the plans that should have been drawn sooner." I said, but as soon as I stopped, I heard Marius chattering about some "lady" again. I rolled my eyes and looked at him. "Marius! Our focus should only be on the Patria! There is no time for that silly love-sick game of yours." But then Marius made no reply, I sighed in annoyance and gave everyone time to discuss with each other new plans for the advancements of the revolution. I started to feel a slight headache, and so; I dismissed the session.

"Perhaps you could all go home and reflect that this revolution is a serious matter. Not some games you used to play as rich young boys."

Φ - - - Nine hours later - - - Φ

Nine hours later, as I was walking alongside the misty rivers of Paris, just across the slums of Paris where I could actually "buy" _company. _The Les Amis always thought that I indulge myself in pleasures of the flesh through books, but books aren't just enough, they always thought him to be naïve and innocent about that stuff. _If only they knew_… But unfortunately, this day is not my lonely day; it is the day when I go for a walk to get a breeze of fresh air; only to get a sight of the people we are fighting for. But aside from all the strangers in the streets, I saw one familiar face. The one who wears a threadbare cap; I paced closer to her, close enough for her not to suspect me. And recognized this was the "boy" who is actually not a boy who follows Marius around the ABC Café. As I was about to approach this girl, maybe chat a little bit with her; a strange man came to her before I did. A man whom I could call a dandy.

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Alright cliffhanger... I still don't know what to post next... I don't want Enjolras or Eponine to be OOC


	2. Gorbeu

**Guys! I'm back! With a 200-word-longer post. Anyways, this story is written on _Eponine's POV_ sooooo... That's all I guess...**

**Disclaimer: No.**

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I sat across the haystacks just across where the brothel is, probably waiting for someone; I don't know. It's just that, I want something that I could not address. Yes, I know that I'm still in-love with Monsieur Marius, and will always be. But I would always now that it is an affection that will never be returned, that I'm here, sitting in a bunch of haystacks with straws all-over my hair, and still dreaming that Monsieur Marius is there. Just plainly seeing his face brightens up my day, just his hands merely touching my arms makes my heart flutter. But a slender figure, vaguely seen appeared out of no-where, but all of those obscurities faded when his face came into light; it's Parnasse. His face is the last thing on earth aside from my father that I needed to appear.

"Ponine-" he said, as I chipped his sentence off.

"Parnasse, what in hell's name are you doing here?"

"I-"But then I chopped his sentence off before he could continue further.

"If you are going to buy a whore, then leave me out of that business."

"Eponine you don't understand. I was sent here by your father to get you."

"Get me?" I said, in a very puzzled expression.

"Why do you seem so surprised? Of course! Do not forget that you are still a-"

"I know that Parnasse and-"before I could get my words done, Parnasse held with an excellent grip that is enough to suffocate the blood in my feeble wrist. I struggled my way out of his grip but found him to be a little too stronger than he used to be when we were young. We walked in haste through the cold-cobblestones of the Slums, I felt it because I was bare-footed, and perhaps he didn't because he has those polished boots clicking as we reached our destination. We reached Gorbeu Tenement; as Montparnasse dragged me through the ragged stairs of Gorbeu and led me to the meeting room, the familiar faces in that room were illuminated by a candle that is almost consumed-up. It was a dreadful sight; father only called me when they needed someone like me for a filthy operation that I would do willingly, considering the consequences of not doing it. I straightened my chemise that was fastened earnestly, or rather; earnestly tried. I placed my figure to the corner-most part of the square room and then crossed my arms and said, "What now?" in a cocky way. At the same time I said those words, the face of Monsieur Claquesous formed with an utter disdain. I smirked at this expression, In some way, I like it when one of Patron-Minette would feel an irritation against me, It bring a bizarre satisfaction; even counting the "consequences" that I would have to go through. I saw father open his mouth and start speaking.

"We are going to hold a robbery in that bourgeois' house in Rue Plumet." He started.

At the mention of Rue Plumet's name, the only word in that sentence that I heard; I forgot that I haven't told Monsieur Marius the house of the lark, as they often call her when we were young. Look at how silly fate is, during my younger years with the lark, I am that person that Monsieur Marius probably wanted to be with, and she, she is just another bony-shouldered girl that looks like she wasn't fed. But the feeding part, that much is true I guess, and I'm one of the reasons of her suffering. But now, look at what fate brought to the two of us; I am the one who is running around, doing the errands for my father and gaining nothing but a piece of bite-sized black bread, the one who would always follow Monsieur Marius wherever he goes. Sometimes, I kind of feel that he is visibly annoyed at my presence, but I guess it would always be like that. And as for the lark, she changed so drastically; her golden locks is now flowing with grace, her sweet smile along with her lips as red as cherries are capturing every young man's gaze, as much as I hate to say it, Monsieur Marius too. Just look what's become of me. These thoughts began to vanish as I heard papa call my attention.

"Eponine!" he said, startling me.

"What?" I asked, in an irritated tone.

"Take care young gal with your tone! I said; you are going to watch out for the cops, Brujon is going to break the sturdy steel gate, if unsuccessful, Babet will use his dental tools to pick the lock., and Montparnasse will accompany you."

I never really heard what papa had to say, my mind was hovering around with the thoughts of me and Monsieur Marius possibly talking in the Luxembourg gardens with the vivid appearance of the younger me; the one with the dress filled with velvet laces and a blue hat mixed with flowers and beige leather. I sank into oblivion by these thoughts; Monsieur Marius holding my hand with honest affection, Monsieur Marius talking to me with sweet words that I have never ever heard in my life. But unfortunately, papa kept yelling for my attention to the point that I just nodded with whatever he planned. He dismissed the meeting as I felt Montparnasse place his cold hands on my shivering cheeks that were cold with the winter breeze. I rolled my eyes in annoyance with what he is trying to do now.

"What is getting in your pea-sized brain Parnasse?" I yelled in a stronger annoyance.

"Ponine, I need you for tonight. Just tonight, please?" he plead in a mocking manner that made my irritation grow wider.

"Parnasse I have better things to do that to 'play' with you so please-"I said, placing his hands harshly from my cheeks that signaled my great antipathy for him tonight. I was tired and I can't do his bidding now.

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**Please review! I want to know your opinion =D**


	3. Rue Plumet

**Part 2 of the Gorbeu chapter =D It is 300-word longer**

**Disclaimer: NO.**

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As I left Parnasse, I staggered my way through the lumpy road just to escape that wretched house; I'd rather sleep in the river. But as I was clumsily running, I tripped off a rock, some small wrong actually. How stupid of me. But then I saw a hand sticking out, something that looked like it was trying to help me. The hand shone like porcelain in the bright moon, I could visibly see that it was a delicate hand that was not touched by poverty. I looked up to the man with his perfectly curly blonde hair, but his face was not apparent. His red jacket and a pin that he wore upon it seemed familiar. It was the absurd leader of Les Amis. If you would ask, why I call it absurd, I would simply say; it's because they are fighting an immense strength that they could never overcome. How could they say that there is hope for each and every people like us? They'd be dead before they even build that barricade. They're just turning on false hopes from the fragile lives of people who are naïve enough to believe their lies. Blinded by his ambition, that is my perfect statement for this blonde. I shoved the hand away; I can establish my own weight. I didn't want to look vulnerable in front of Marius' friends. But the thing is, I did need help.

"Thanks anyways." I said, as I was about to turn my back and walk aimlessly, perhaps to find a shelter nice enough for me to spend the night in. But he held my arm, the way Monsieur Marius does when he was about to ask me something. And lately it was the address of the lark. "What?" I said as I raise my right brow, but that probably was just my effort to look fierce.

"Aren't you that little fellow who always follows Pontmercy?" he said, with a look of pity that is placed on his sapphire eyes. It was annoying. I despised those kinds of looks; it was similar when the lark saw me a day ago. It was a pure and innocent stare for the lark; it was pure for this blonde. Wait, they're both blonde aren't they? Let's just say Monsieur Absurd. But aren't they all?

"Where do you live?" he said, It felt like he was interrogating me in a nice way; but he had no rights.

"None of your revolutionary business," I replied. But then I saw a familiar figure that was cascading; heading to me. The figure was slowly brought into light, another face. But this time, it had a slightly curled sandy hair, a neatly pressed tailcoat with the same badge that Monsieur Absurd wore. It was the face I always wanted to see; Monsieur Marius.

"Eponine, Fancy seeing you here!" he said, with the same old gleeful expressions that always sent me into an utmost exhilaration, which hastily rises up. "Enjolras, Grantaire got us into trouble again. Courfeyrac told me to find you."

"What did he do?" he said, forgetting that I was there between them. But that's alright too, I'm used to it. And who cares anyways? I'm listening to Monsieur Marius and he's in front of me, that is what matters.

"He accidentally vomited on Monsieur Javert's uniform. Now, Monsieur Javert is raising his suspicion against us. We have to be careful." Monsieur Marius said. As far as my memory would allow me to reminisce, Grantaire is the one who was always drunk. That made sense.

"Then we're moving our meetings to Joly's flat." He said plainly, without even worrying about it.

"Oh by the way, Eponine," Monsieur Marius exclaimed. _He said my name_. This act was enough to make my night complete. That Monsieur Marius notices me. My heart and stomach was fluttering and I was sent to a greater exhilaration than the one that I felt earlier, which hastily rises. "Did you find that girl's address?" and hastily falters. I stared into the void of the road that was hardly visible through the night; the street lamp was turning on and off as if the government didn't care about this area. But they didn't anyways so that wasn't really a matter to discuss. Heaven and Hell clamped me in between them; the walls were starting to suffocate me. My brows formed into a brooding expression and then I heard Monsieur Marius calling for my attention. "Eponine?" he invoked again. I came back to my senses and answered him, "Oh yes! It was in 55 Rue Plumet, if you want, I will lead you in there." I said. Truthfully speaking, I kind of regretted saying it. But his grin was not something you could actually refuse. His grin was something that would you to say what you are not about to say, and to annoy you that it was not you that he was grinning for.

"Really?" he asked, his grin growing wider; and the grimace in my heart expanding larger.

"Yes." My words betrayed the emotion that I felt, in attempt to make a happy expression; I made a rather blank one.

"Right now?"

"Right now"

His gleeful expression made me proceed with my feet that are destined to Rue Plumet, he was following me hastily, and he was so close. "Not so close Monsieur," I said, but he did not seem to hear it. He even placed his warm hand on my freezing shoulder, as if I was a goddess or something. He even caught both of my hands in excitement on our way to Rue Plumet, but then I heard him murmuring loud about something in these words, "She is like a goddess from heaven! 'Ponine if only you could feel what I feel! Thank you so much! I owe you my life." He kissed my hand. But my whole body was wavering now, every word that he was saying was yet another dagger that is drived through me.

We stepped through the silent houses and finally to the lark's home; Monsieur Marius waited at the gate as it was some prized-possession, he clang to the gate as it was his life that he should cling on to. And suddenly, the lark appeared. She appeared as if she was expecting him all day; I hid behind a tree and watch painfully as the two exchanged sweet words together. Epiphany stroke me that my fantasies would never come into life, it was stupid. Maman probably read so much fairy-tales when I was on her womb to the point that she even named me Eponine. It was so stupid. It drove me insane. I tried to cover my ears, but the words seemed to be directed at me, to pierce me.

"I loved you ever since I saw you" Monsieur Marius said.

"Don't you think I did not feel that too? I did! And now you're here, it seemed so unreal to me. But I am thankful." She said.

But it seemed to me that their words weren't the only thing I heard on that quiet night. There were several heavy footsteps that my sharp ears heard. I came to check and possibly to just get out of that sullen moment. As I was approaching the outside, I saw the faces I do not want to see. It was Papa and Patron-Minette. I had to do something! He'll think that this was an ambush for both of him and Cosette, he'll hate me forever! I do not want that to happen. I need to stop them.

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**I love reviews... I get more motivation over it.**


	4. Montparnasse and his knife

**Disclaimer: NO**

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Before going out there and confronting them, I composed myself first; wiping the small tears that formed through my face, straightening the rags that I know that cannot be straightened, and fixing my tousled hair that I know would never be fixed, but most of all, I wore a fierce look, that turned out to be fine. I silently approached where I heard the blabbering of Patron-Minette, placed my right foot forward and placed a glare upon each of them. I first glared at Papa, then to Monsieur Babet, then to Monsieur Claquesous, then to Monsieur Brujon, then to Montparnasse.

"Ah! Who is this brat?" Papa said, placing on his watch-yourself-or-you're-doomed expression; this expression is the kind that would urge you to be careful with your words. Not to mention; not touching Papa's temper.

"It's Eponine! I thought she didn't like to join us?" Monsieur Babet said, playing with his dental tools. It was sharp.

"Eponine! Watch out for the cops now! Get on your ass with 'Parnasse." He said, with a sharper tone than before.

"I won't let you rob this house." I said, failing at an attempt to sound more menacing. But then, Papa took another step towards me, as if trying to scare me off. Monsieur Claquesous raised his brow, constantly irritated at my face. I smirked in victory. But then another idea touched the bulb of my mind. What if I try to be a good cat first? The claw them later, yeah, I think that's good enough.

"What are you trying to say?" Papa said, screaming above a whisper.

"What I mean was, don't you think we should delay it for a moment? I really think we've grown cold to each other ever since the inn fell." _Wrong move_, I shouldn't have mentioned the inn. Papa can be as cold as he can, but he did love that inn; why wouldn't he? We earned a great deal of money from that inn. Ever since it fell, so did his warmth. I did think this thing enraged Papa even more, _I'm in trouble_.

"Go home!" Papa screamed, but without alerting the people who's inside the house.

"But Papa-"

"Parnasse, take care of this brat," Papa said, urging Montparnasse to show his shining blade that is aimed to my direction.

"Leave this house, or I'm going to warn the people in this house!" I said, now looking real intimidating; before they say another word, I continued to speak, "Not one step closer! You see, I'm not afraid of any of you! Monsieur Claquesous, I'm not afraid of your irritated grips. Monsieur Babet, I'm not even afraid of your sharp dental tools. Monsieur Brujon, I'm not afraid of the blows you and father would give me after this night. Parnasse, I don't care if you slit my gut out this moment. I tell you all, you will not enter this house! None of you scares me, I don't care if I am lying helplessly through the pavements of Rue Plumet tomorrow, or picked up with all the other dead bodies somewhere, I tell you, you shan't enter this house! I've received worse than any of you could give me!" but then a dry cough delayed what I wanted to say further, because of that, my father had an opportunity to speak.

"But Eponine, we need to place food on our-"

"I don't care."

"Don't you love your papa anymore?"

"Die."

With these, he then ordered Montparnasse and Monsieur Claquesous to take grasp both of my arms, I won't be defeated this night. I screamed at the top of my lungs until my voice came hoarse, who cares about me being hoarse? I've always been one. I might lose my voice tomorrow, but it was definitely not much to care about. Protecting Monsieur Marius from possible harm was too blatant at this very moment; I cared not for anything that can happen. _I've experienced worse_. At this scream, Papa slapped me once more and then they all ran like coward dogs. But I guess this scream alerted Monsieur Marius too; he went outside, he saw me there; sitting in an ugly position.

"Was that your cry?" he asked, looking concerned. This made my facial structure form a grin.

"I've got you worried, didn't I?" I said, notably happy with his statements, the pain of the slap faded with this.

"Of course, did something happen?"

"Not really, just some gang attempting to crash this place."

"It was your father wasn't it?"

"I guess…"

"Do you want me to walk you home?"

"I don't have a home."

"Oh, at least drop you in Café Musain?"

"That's fine."

I was trying to hide my excitement from Monsieur Marius; he was walking me at a distance where it is enough to talk about great deal of things. I felt like the world has finally sided on me. But as we were walking, I did not hear anything from him other than, "Oh Eponine, how lovely that girl was!" or "Cosette, that's her name; now I finally met someone I want to live for the rest of my life." It sent me to hysteria, I did not say anything. He asked me what's wrong, I said nothing. But if you would really look inside of me, I just wanted to scream to him that I love him and he's the sun that I revolve around, that he is the only thing in this world that matters, that my love for him is greater than anyone else could give him, that I would die for him. What did he see in that lark? That he didn't see in me? But that was a really silly question, because the answer is clearer that the crystal-clear-water. I knew it myself; I needn't to describe what was, because I'll probably end up wasting a hundred days for describing the difference between me and the lark. Time past by and we are at Café Musain already, there were no students in there except for Monsieur Absurd, Marius bid me farewell and I saw at the brick-wall of Café Musain; pondering.

Why wasn't I tired from loving Monsieur Marius? These thoughts clouded my like some great storm; but at the end of the day, I will just conclude that, I simply love him. And this love, I could say, It is an authentic love, he is the only light in my damned life. The only person who ever cared, even though he is blind in not seeing me, I can still hope that it can be, In cold nights like these, where it was starting to rain, I would just begin to close my eyes and imagine that his arms are around me, whispering words of love. How I long to live to see that day! When Monsieur Marius finally will realize that It is I who is really in-love with him, that I am the one person who cares for him more than anything in this world, even though I know that he sees my just like any other street rats from Paris. My thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a shadow in my left, which makes the figure in my right. It was none other than the guy who also appeared to me earlier before I led Monsieur Marius to Rue Plumet.

"It's raining," Monsieur Absurd said.

"It is that obvious."

"Why don't you stay inside for the night?"

"That's really absurd."

"No, I'm serious. Just don't scatter the books." I scoffed at this sentence; what did he think of me? Someone who is so curious on what a book is? I've seen books before, Maman used to read books to me when I was young.

"No thanks."

After seeing this, I saw a taller figure approach me and Monsieur Absurd, it was Montparnasse. "I'm taking her from here," Montparnasse said, showing his shiny knife to Enjolras like a real garrotter. Monsieur Absurd said nothing but mouthed a, "Take care." instead, then left. I always knew that those boys, from Les Amis weren't really ready for that stupid revolution, they're just as scared as sheeps when they see the edged teeth of their predator. I still don't know why none of them realizes that; they're just wasting time that is supposed to be spent in working for a living, the government is the system and that could not be changed, but who would listen to a girl like me anyways?

"I'm not coming with you Parnasse, I know how much screwed I am to Papa."

"He's dead angry you know?"

"I am well-informed of that."

"Well, I won't bring you to him."

"What's the catch?"

"What catch?"

"Stop kidding me 'Parnasse, we both know that you want something from me."

"Watch your tongue 'Ponine; If I knew, I could've just let you feel the weight of my palms."

"It's not like I've never felt that before."

"Don't talk back to me." He gripped my shoulder to the wall.

"Then what do you want?" I said, completely annoyed.

"You" Montparnasse said, I rolled my eyes and replied to him, "Not now Parnasse, not now." But then he placed his cold knife against my neck, "You don't have the guts to do that." I told him.

"But I do."

"Fine, just this night, You could at least make me feel warm." I told him, surrendering.

"Good dog."

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Cliffhanger! Next chapter will be Enjolras' POV! PLEASE REVIEW, they keep me up and I just love them...


	5. Enjolras and Cafe Musain

**thanks for the other three reviews! atleast I know that someone is reading my story T_T soo here, I think enjolras was quite ooc but still... I have a hard time writing from his POV... but it was needed because I don't want the scene between parnasse and ponine be graphical and obscene...**

**Disclaimer: NO**

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I went to my flat; just across Cafe Musain and silently opened the window to see what really happened to the street waif who always trails behind Pontmercy. Of course, I didn't just do this because I was plainly curious; plain curiosity doesn't lead anyone anywhere. Maybe by simply watching these two, I would have enough information to the life of the people whom we were fighting for. I've never really debated to myself whether I was really dedicated at my cause as I seem to be, It seems that nothing ever happens at Cafe Musain whenever I talk to those boys. When would the time come that their sufferings would be over? But as I pondered about the word, "their", I thought that maybe I shouldn't have let fear swallow me during the time that the "dandy" whom I've seen hours ago with her tried to frighten me with his dagger. I peeked through the window and saw them converse with each other, his arms pinned to the wall, and his knife sticking to her throat; as if trapping her, and threatening her. But after a few moment of their discussion, she nodded, I do not know what this nod means, but I guess the following events that are not-so-obscene-but-quite-obscene laid out what they were talking about.

With my own eyes, I saw her succumb to him, with an expression of someone who sighed in defeat. _He got what he wanted_. But by the looks on how the two acts around each other, it seems to me; that they have been stuck in this kind of relationship for a very long time. They are indeed friends, but friends that have a predator-prey relationship. But a conviction that my heart sent to my brain shook my core; thus, reminiscing the olden days when I was too passionate about France, that time when I was drawing the revolution and approaching every possible allies myself. The degradation of women that is delivered through these kinds of scene, the degradation of men that is apparent on how they are treated by the higher society, the degradation of children through the means of neglect.

These things once again haunted me in a positive way; thus, enlightening the same old fire I felt when I was starting everything that is being laid out. But as these thoughts processed through my brain, my pondering was interrupted when I took a momentary glance towards the duo, and saw the man left the gamine helpless, bruised and broken. My mind battled on what I should do next. Should I leave her be? Or should I stick out my hand that she refused twice. But the answer would always stare in front of my face, I should. But that would probably make her feel that I pity her, I do but, I know girls like her doesn't like to be looked at with my expression that expresses pity. But I did come to her anyways, she was crying with hateful tears.

"Do you need help?" Wrong approach, I should have known, but I didn't know what to say.

"Go back to that silly revolutionary work of yours." She said, I wondered why she was so aggressive to almost everyone who offers her help, of course, Pontmercy is an exemption.

"Come on in." I said, pointing at the lugubrious aura of Cafe Musain at night. This time, I wouldn't just let the opportunity to talk to someone who lives in the gutter slide. I know I could've talked to Gavroche; he's a fanatic. But there is some mysterious force that urges me to talk to her. I don't know what that is, probably some silly conviction.

"I don't need your charity."

"I'm not offering charity."

"Then I don't need your pity."

"Please just come on in." I said, this time I was determined; for some unknown reason.

"Fine." She said, and I heard her whimpering, but it was apparent that she was trying her best to not make me hear her fragility.

We entered Cafe Musain, with an awkward peculiar atmosphere mixed with tension; it seems like something of an interrogation. But it wasn't. We moved to the desk where I usually scribble my ideas for the revolution, something that some of the boys care about, but not always. Maybe I should sometimes ask them if they are as devoted to this cause just like they were when I first formed the Les Amis. I drew the chair from its original place and signalled the girl to sit in, the more time passes by, the more awkward this scene gets. I feel so in-appropriate, as if I don't know how to welcome a guest.

"Spit it out." She said, glaring at my figure.

"What?"

"Why are you so persistent?"

"Persistent?" I acted as if I don't know what she was saying.

"Don't act like you don't know what I mean."

"Alright, I just wanted to talk to you."

"About?" she asked. I wonder why she was so aggressive even if she is in a safe-zone, but I really wouldn't call this thick atmosphere at safe-zone for her. Maybe for me, but I don't know for her.

I momentarily stopped answering her bite-backs and went to the kitchen to get some hot coffee, by the looks of her; she hadn't eaten these recent days. As I was on my way to the kitchen, I tried to be the intellectual me and speculate on why this girl was always following Pontmercy, and why does she stare at him with awe and vivid fascination. Could it be that she loves that fellow? That can't be could it? But maybe yes. The more I thought about it, the more plausible it appears to be. I finally concluded with my mind today that she somehow developed an attraction towards the guy. But the conclusion was too bare without evidences, but the situation is too intriguing to ignore. I never thought like this before, but I can't help being curious about it.

A sudden change of my character, strange isn't it? But then an epiphany stroked and I realized; why would someone always trail after someone who obviously doesn't notice her back? The answer is that obvious. But I shouldn't be thinking of these things, revolution is more important that any of these; Patria is the only person I should be focusing on as of the moment. I will continue to stand as a father figure to these young boys and lead them to the right philosophies and idea about France and its system. As I was pondering about these things, as my mind was hovering endlessly into mid-air, as I've grown oblivious to my surroundings; the girl's weary voice saying, "You never really answered my question." I neglected her question, how stupid of me.

"Sorry about that, I was about to ask your name," nothing came out of my mouth but non-intellectual words, what's wrong with me today? Maybe I just need a casual talk, but would I trust someone whom I barely knew her name? Of course not, I would talk to her, but won't let my guard down.

"Eponine, there's no need to know surname."

"Enjolras here," I replied, shoving her second statement into the void of oblivion.

"I didn't ask for your name." She said, but surprisingly; I wasn't surprised, neither offended, nor mad about what she just said.

"Why do you love Pontmercy so much even though you know that there is the slimmest of chance that you two could be together?" It finally slipped out, I offended her to the point that it may have shaken the very core of her heart; but I was too curious, and most probably, clumsy. I felt remorse over what I just let slip from my tongue. An immense silent filled the room; thus, the air of awkwardness was growing more enormous.

"Because I do." She said. These words knocked me up in a state of awakening; as if it was the only thing that was needed to be said to refrain me from talking further. It was a cold bucket of water that was thrown out to my golden locks. But I want to convince her that she was just looking forward to nothing, but what did I care? I don't have anything to care about, but why did I want to do it? Because; I don't know.

"You're blind," I said, in a trying-to-persuade manner, it usually worked but-

"And you're as blind as I am!" she said, raising an octave in her hoarse and weary voice. This statement shocked me, what blind? What was this about? In everything that I do, I think about it carefully.

"Eponine-"

"Can't you see? This stupid revolution, they are all just a hazy little dream of yours. "

"But-"

"Every words of wisdom that you say every-time there is a meeting this place or somewhere, are just absurd ideas and shallow dreams of freeing France." She said, opening the closed window from the corner-right of the Cafe. "Can't you see?" But before continuing, she was stopped by a pathetic dry cough and finally sighed in defeat, "I know, I shouldn't have said that. Just," she stopped for a moment, "I'll just go." continued Eponine.

"Wait, Eponine-"

"What?"

"Do you have a shelter for tonight?"

"Yes."

"Where would that be?"

"Somewhere that is out of your concern," she sharply said, then left.

I sank into the Cafe's comfortable couch in defeat; I sighed and thought about what she said about the hazy dream thing. What did she probably mean? That this revolution is merely a practical joke for the citizens of France? Of course it was not! Why would she think that? But I guess that's what they gamines would usually think. But what could it really mean? I was too tired to think now, I sank into a deep slumber and waited for another day to pass.

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**Sorrryy if it was abit lame... but I can't think of something... suggest please?**

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	6. On my Own

**Am baaack! thanks for some of those reviews! please continue to review my story I love em'... alright there in this chap, I wrote Eponine's stream of consciousness, Idk is that what you call it? It's kinda my weakest parts soo tell me what you think about it!**

**DISCLAIMER: NO, and NEVER.**

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As I left the Café Musain's door instantly after conversing with Monsieur I-care-for-the-affairs-that-are-not-mine. Why would he suddenly, out of the blue, ask me why I love Monsieur Marius? Was it that obvious? How did he know? My mind was clouded by these questions and it haunted me until the next consecutive minutes. But I tried to ponder it out; maybe I was following Monsieur Marius too closely? Maybe I was looking at him too longingly that it made it that apparent that I loved him? Possibly, but It's too tiring to think! I've been thinking, pondering, weighing out, and dreaming all day long. But Enjolras, yeah, I finally got to call him by his name, or surname. Enjolras is too full of himself! I was so tempted to talk back at him, which I did ever since I got acquainted to him. What I mean was, talk back to him with the serious ones, not the sarcastic part of me. But fortunately, I know my place, and I know that I was over-stepping the boundaries of a girl like me by entering that Café alone and talk casually with him. What can I do? He was one of those who despise people like me, just pretending not to. But I've got better things to do than think, I forgot; I was dead hungry.

I moved towards the near river in Café Musain, where I was sitting just hours ago. I decided to forget everything that happened and everything that Monsieur so-full-of-himself said. I just focused on Monsieur Marius just as I do every time; everyday and every night. I did somehow wish at the back of my naïve mind that a shooting star could possibly be true, that I may wish a life with Monsieur Marius. I began to walk across the river, catching a glimpse of the far-away Café Musain. I began to sing my hoarse voice out, hoarse and weary. I know I never ever carried a tune, but I felt like it.

_"On my own, pretending he's beside me. All alone, I walk with him till' morning_." I always love the night, it seems to me that the darkness that is surpassing the day is always the friend I could talk to, I would always make-believe that he is beside me; caressing me, whispering to me words of comfort. "_Without him, I feel his arms around me."_ When will the time come that I would really sleep in his warm embrace? But of course, a figure from my illusion that was beside me, which somehow is my Monsieur Marius, embraced me. It made me feel warm. "_And when I lose my way I close my eyes and he has found me_." Every-time that I felt that I'm just lost in the labyrinth of this world, I would just look at what Monsieur Marius would have done about it, and I am finally found, at last." _In the rain, the pavement shines like silver. All the lights are misty in the river. In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight, and all I see is him and me forever and forever."_It's raining again isn't it? I took a little glance upon the wet pavement that shone like silver in the bright and well-rounded moon. But even if it's raining, I would always enjoy the company of my Monsieur Marius in cold nights like these.

_"And I know it's only in my mind. That I'm talking to myself, and not to him_." Epiphany strikes me and realized that here was I again, creating a different domain of my dreams, even if this Monsieur Marius is whispering my words of love, It's not Monsieur Marius; but me. A lugubrious determination ever grown inside me, _"And although, I know that he is blind, still I say, there's a way for us."_I am well-aware of the less than one percent chance of us being together, but I will never waver, I will never falter, I would always believe that there is the slightest of hope that we could be. Even though I just decreased it when I gave him the lark's address; he is the only thing in the world I could ever look forward to. _"I love him, but when the night is over; he is gone, the river's just a river."_ After this night, just like any other nights, he will be gone when it is over. I am well aware of that, but I love him and nothing ever changes that fact. I believe that someday, in some dimension, in some world, or in some time; he would finally care for me like a father does to his wife. _"Without him, the world around me changes! The trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers."_The faces everywhere, the places surrounding the world, the living creatures and the dead, they all serve for nothing without him. They are just a mere blur from my vision without him. What's the use of living when there is no Monsieur Marius?

_"I love him, but everyday I'm learning! All my life, I've only been pretending!"_My veins are freezing, my blood is running cold, and Epiphany is striking me with a more fatal damage than any of a material object could be of damage to my physical physique. My emotion is faltering, and my hopes are wavering. I cannot live without him; I concluded. _"Without me, his world will go on turning, a world that's full of happiness that I have never known!"_But I would always, always know! That he would never feel mutual about what I feel about it, how significant it is, and how it destroys my very world when I lose him. But his world will never be scarred, touched, or even pinched when he loses me. What is the use of everything!? What's the use of me loving him, when I exactly know that this love will never be returned? What's the reason of me loving him even that I know the aftermath of these things is him being with another? Hot tears came streaming down my face along with the rain as I pondered with great oblivion to anything that ever surrounded me. Why do I love him…? _"I love him, I love him, I love him."_The answer was there and I repeated it again and again through the back of my mind, there is just no right reason I could find on loving him. But why is it that it feels so right whenever I am with him? Why do I feel great exhilaration whenever he touches my arm? _"But only, on my own…"_ Behind all of these, I would always know that I am alone in loving him. But what can I do? I love him, even that everything he says is another nail driven through my heart. _I love him_.

Dawn was soon approaching; it is past two in the morning as I've ended my pondering and finally woke from the reverie that I was in. I cast my glance towards my tattered rags and realized that it was only growing worse; I needed a new shirt to cover my bareness and shelter me from the chill that the season brings. Winter has never been really our friend. Hundreds of people I knew died from winter. I, unfortunately, haven't yet. I crossed my arms and rubbed it on each side just to make myself feel warm as I felt a warm hand place itself on my bare shoulders that was covered by my paper-thin overcoat. "Eponine," The voice said. My mind just woke from its reverie; the supposed-to-be familiar voice had become an obscurity to me.

"What?" I turned, and saw Montparnasse handing me a newsboy cap that looked like it was stolen from some bourgeois just recently.

"Take this. Sorry for leaving you so cold last night."

"It's alright. It's not like I've never been cold, I've felt worse Parnasse. I've felt worse." I said, making my tone a little bit I'm-going-to-make-you-feel-guilty.

"Accept it." He commanded; this annoyed me. I took the cap from his hand with haste and placed in on my ever-so-cold head. "Thanks." I said, touching the neatly pressed cloth in his shoulders. I took his hand, I don't know why; but I've always done that ever since we were young when he was nice to me.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not giving that out of charity."

"I am well-aware."

"Good." He placed his now-cold hand to my tiny figure and turned me to him. "Do you still love that goody-two-shoes?" he asked coldly, this annoyed me even more.

"He's not a prude." I said, in an obviously defensive manner.

"Then, why doesn't he understand your advances?" Parnasse said, placing his cold hands on my shivering arm. It felt cold, unlike when Monsieur Marius does it, it felt more than warm; I felt safe.

"Just go away."

"Don't be so sluggish Eponine, we have work to do." He said, leaving me with those words that signalled me to go to my father, and possibly, meet his temper. I sighed in surrender.

I sat down through a wooden stump that seemed to have been dusty with the time it had been there. "I may have to face Papa sooner," I mumbled to myself as I quickly got out of the stump and made my way through the still wet pavements of Paris and onto the Gorbeu Tenement. Perhaps being beat up would be better than being called a coward. I ran as fast I can to reach my destination, but it was more like staggered. I stopped half-way, unfortunately stopped at Cafe Musain as I felt a slight weakness and an ache through my muscles. "It must have been the rain," I thought. But the rain never brought illness to me. But well, I shoved that ache away and still ran as fast as I can to the Gorbeu Tenement.

"Eponine," Papa coldly said, with a frightening big hoarse voice that would send ghouls to back to its resting place. If it sent ghouls to a state of fear, so did it to me.

"I told you, you'll rue the day you ever ruined our plan." Papa continued.

"That bourgeois, we could've had a great sum of money!" Brujon screamed; with the same big voice that Papa wore.

I wore the mask of courage and said, "I'll never rue that day." In a try-to-be-tough voice, even though it really was fearsome. "And besides..." I stopped for a moment; a dry cough did stop me, "I'm not afraid of you guys. The nerve! Who told you that I would be afraid of you five?" but then I decided to mumble the next sentence to myself, but before I could even mumble it whole, Papa spoke.

"Bitch!"

"I'm not the daughter of a dog, since I'm the daughter of a wolf. There are six of you, what matters that to me? You are men. Well, I'm a woman. You don't frighten me. I don't care a straw for you. You can use your knives. I'll use kicks; it's all the same to me, come on!" I screamed in arrogance. _Damn_. It was a wrong move, I knew it. I just waited there. Waiting for the time they would strike me, and it of course came. Blows from Papa and Monsieur Brujon, cuts from Montparnasse' dagger, and harsh words from Monsieur Babet and Monsieur Claquesous. Actually, I felt physical pain. But above all that, it was emotional pain. Why? Nobody really cared. The person who ever cared was Monsieur Marius, the only light in my gloomy life. If some philosopher would describe it, it would be more then gloomy. But I'm just someone who never finished a proper education, I don't know any other term. After the blows, the cuts, the kicks; they threw me out of Gorbeu, it was afternoon this time now. I was lying there helplessly, waiting for death to grab me, or someone else. But my last wish would be to see Monsieur Marius before I depart to where I was destined.

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**btw, one reason why I didn't elaborate the beatings... I don't want it to be too angsty... Don't get me wrong! I'm a great fan of angst, but I think it's kind of too brutal for me to make it graphical**

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	7. Combeferre

**I've been gone for two days... SORRY GUYS! I've been on a writer's block and ran out of ideas, but I then realized that I needed to update no matter-what... So please forgive this chapter for being uneventful; hopefully you could suggest more for the future chapters. Please review. And yes I promised to give a name drop. It is none other than; CAdreaming555 for saying that he/she can't wait for the next chapter 3 wuv u, and rain-can't-hurt-me-now; for being so awesome. She's an awesome person with an awesome talent when it comes to writing angst. You shud check her out, and her current fic... It gave me the "feels" oops I talk too much!**

**DISCLAIMER: I can't even publish a whole musical or a whole awesome book sooo... NO**

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My eyes started to open, I must be dead. But the blurry vision that fixated itself on the concrete wall in front of my indicated that I was not. It was a bittersweet feeling. I was amidst exhilaration and profound despair. But as I was starting to sit up, a sharp pain demanded me to stay at the same position. It was irritating. I was weak. I looked for dependency. A figure came in rushing to me, he seemed so paranoid about the wounds I had, and the blood that was coming from god-knows-where. I only wished for that moment that it was actually Monsieur Marius rushing over me, but I can't see who that was. But would care? Aside from him, who would? It was some none other than; one of the sheep that Enjolras shepherded. I think it was that medical student who was more of a patient than a doctor. He came rushing to me in a state of panic, as if I was the worst case he has ever seen in his uneventful life.

"Dear god! What has happened!" he panicked out, this made me laugh in the back of my mind, even though I was fatally wounded, it can't be equivalent to my emotional wounds. "Hold on! Don't talk too much!" I wasn't even talking, "I'll take you to Café Musain." At the mention of Café Musain, my heart thumped faster, I may have to see Monsieur Marius again! The wallowing sadness was replaced with an unparalleled delight. But even so, my face betrayed no radiance about this; the pain was crucial too. Joly rushed through his carriage and laid me beside him, as he ordered the carriage guy to move forward to Café Musain. I was half-conscious all throughout this event, that I was even delirious about the places and landmarks I saw during the ride. I tried my best to close my eyes and sleep, but I kept thinking about how Monsieur Marius would be at Café Musain, practically worried. I hope he is. After all, he is the only person who gave a damn about me. Fantasies were hovering over my delusional mind. As we reached Café Musain, I was carried to the door; earning a few looks of shock from some students. This did not surprise me either.

"Combeferre, I think she's dying!" Joly screamed to Combeferre who rushed over to my side and helped Joly to place me in a long cushion; which I stained accidentally by the blood that was dropping over.

"Joly, calm down; just bring her to the nearest room. I will treat her wou-"Combeferre stared at me, with a studying expression, "-Isn't this the lad who used to follow Marius here?" I scoffed quietly at the idea of everyone realizing that I was following Monsieur Marius. It was so apparent then.

Why didn't Monsieur Marius hurry to my side? Just once I thought that he cared; but maybe he wasn't there. But if he wasn't there, where was he? Could it be that he was at the lark's side? No possibly not, but it became more plausible. He was never late, I knew that. But then rushed-up footsteps came in barging from the stairs, the man asked in a commanding tone, "Why is Marius late?" It was Enjolras. I was too weak to whine about his presence, which is why I didn't give any reaction to what he said; besides, I'm the patient here.

"Probably with some women in the brothel!" the drunk laughed, I jeered at him at the back of my mind. Monsieur Marius would never do that, he is a man of chaste virtue.

"Ah! Marius finally realizes that he is too much chaste!" Courfeyrac added, this man, would jump at any chances for humor. _Seriously_.

"Marius is in-love at last!" After these sentences, I sighed in defeat. Perhaps because it was true, I saw the way he looked at the lark. The kind of gaze that he would never give to anyone but her; I felt my chest flutter with anxiety and despair combined. I was carried to the nearest room in which I was alone with Combeferre.

"What is your name?"

"Eponine," I answered, weakly.

"Eponine, what happened?"

"Nothing really," But then someone barged in the door; Enjolras. "How rude," I commented sarcastically.

"You don't just get in a helpless state when nothing really happened." He said, monotonously; as if interrogating me. Again.

"Try going into the pit-bottom slums, then you'll see." I said, with an aggressive manner; the one that I always used with this man.

"Eponine, you'll have to rest in here for three days." Combeferre concluded.

"Three days?"

"You heard him." Enjolras added. Wimp.

"I can't stay here for three days, I have things to do! I'm not like you, who can slack off and daydream for the rest of the day about some absurd war-plans that would never-"I saw Enjolras face turn serious, pale and aggressive. Perhaps I offended him; maybe I was crossing the line too much. I shouldn't have been brought here, more likely; I shouldn't have ever been here aside from when Monsieur Marius is. "-Sorry," I said. I should've said this a long time ago, why have I been so tactless in my words? I sighed in surrender.

"It's alright," He muttered and left.

"Enj-"Combeferre screamed, then sighed. "Eponine, the wounds are fresh; and they are serious. Tell me what happened?" Combeferre asked nicely, I don't know but; there is something about this guy that screams I should tell him what happened. He IS a doctor anyways.

"Yesterday, I led Monsieur Marius to Cosette, then as I was about to leave them; I heard Papa and his gang's blabbering and chattering about robbing the house. I tried to stop them and warned them that I will scream, yet they heeded no warning. I screamed, and then I alarmed everyone in there and they left."

"Then?"

"What then?"

"Did they beat you up?"

"No, just a slap from Papa, it's not like I haven't experienced that before," I answered.

"I have no real idea who those people are, but how did you get almost left for dead?"

"Let's say, Monsieur Marius found me there and then proposed to walk me home, and yes; I don't have a home. Which is why he dropped me at Café Musain, after which, Montparnasse came to me, practically asking me to give him his pleasures in exchange for not bringing me back to Papa. I agreed, his knife-"

"So did he cut you?"

"Nope,"

"Then what did he do?"

"After he's done with me, he left me out in the cold."

"Then why are you wounded and bruised?"

"Let me finish my bedtime story, oh it's afternoon, so it's just a story then-"I sighed deeply, "After which, I was there near the river, waiting for dusk to be over and for dawn to come. Montparnasse approached me and told me to go back to Gorbeu and that Papa wanted to talk to me. I did go to Gorbeu, but I ended up enraging them more, so-"

"You were beaten up?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"How many are they?"

"To be exact-"I tried to count them through my hand, "Five, including Papa."

"This was only this morning?"

"Yes."

"Good thing Joly found you, but that guy is a little hysterical."

"I can see that."

"Eponine, I have to remove your clothing and stitch the cuts out."

"What?"

"Oh I understand you Mademoiselle Epo-"

"I'm even worthy of that thought-"

"You are a lady," he said, and I sighed in defeat.

"Can you operate on me somewhere that is not Café Musain?" I asked him, what if Monsieur Marius sees me bare with another man. For sure, that would decrease the dignity on him, and what's left of it in me.

"Sure, how about my flat?" he asked.

"Deal." At that very instant, Combeferre carried me to his carriage to the flat's direction, but the scenery preceding this was me looking at Enjolras' troubled eyes. Had I really offended him that much? God, why did I ever repeat that? But isn't he overacting? I don't know but it disturbed me, I spent my minutes by thinking of it. I was capable of hurting anyone I wished to be, but I kind of wished I didn't hurt him. Well he offended me last night! Yeah he did, and I was deeply offended. Oh well, I'm overacting, I wasn't offended by it. Just a little, but, It's not like I've never heard Montparnasse blabber such nonsense to me.

As we arrived to Combeferre's garret, my eyes hovered around the other houses surrounding it. He was dead rich! But who wasn't in Les Amis? Probably Marius, but he had a wealthy Grandpa who disowned him and he is virtues enough to return the great sum of money that his relative sends him quarterly. Oh how great Monsieur Marius is! But I actually found it rather stupid to return the money, he barely ate. I do hope that he is doing well in Courfeyrac's home. "We're home," Combeferre said, while trying to carry me from the carriage.

"I can walk."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not a wimp."

"Alright then, but be careful."

I walked through as he opened his door for me; I saw different kinds of medical stuff. It was really arranged accordingly, after which, I began to grow a slight fascination upon his flat. I've entered dandy garrets before but that was for the sole purpose that I was bought for the night. In some cases, I was fortunate enough to spend the night in their bedroom and then leave the next morning; but oftentimes, that's not the case. Combeferre assisted me upstairs to his workplace, where there is a neat white bed and medical tools. "Might you want to lie down?" He asked. It felt so different, that I am lying down in another man's bed for a different purpose. Maybe it wasn't only Monsieur Marius that cared after-all. But thoughts started to flood me when Monsieur Enjolras-. I got to call him Monsieur; what an achievement. When Monsieur Enjolras offered his hand at me, but my thoughts were interrupted when Combeferre indicated me to go ease off in the bed. I submitted to him, what did I know anyways? "The blood has dried up and it crusted your skin, we'll just have to clean that off. But for a moment, you can sleep soundly." He smiled, "You look like you haven't gotten enough sleep." I simply nodded in agreement as he injected something that made me falter and succumb to slumber.

But here is what practically happened when I was asleep, as Combeferre was done cleaning my wounds; he took my clothes off to clean the blood that was scattered enormously, both fresh and old. He started to use his medical apparatus to inspect if there was something wrong with my breathing; next, he started to use salves to further clean the other wounds. If I was awake, it would be quite awkward; I've been exposed to numerous amounts men before, but they were people who couldn't care less. This man is a friend of Monsieur Marius. I don't know, it just felt; awkward. I saw an unclear light behind my lids and came to the conclusion that a window was open or a bulb was turned on, but this was followed by an obscure sound somehow forming the name of the person in front of me. These was all trailed by someone barging in the door; speechless. _I woke_. It was that drunken ass.

"Combeferre isn't it too early for you to-"

"Grantaire, I'm working, please."

"Fine,"

"Now if you will please? "

"Can I stay for a little while?"

"I don't want you maliciously staring into this woman's bare body."

"I'm no-"

"Oh please Grantaire, Just-"

"Fine, but isn't this the girl who always follow Marius?" he grinned.

"Grantaire!" Combeferre commanded the tone when someone discloses a conversation that indicates you to know that what he said is final. I was thankful of this.

"Okay fine, just so you know; Marius is blabbering around about some 'Ursula' and goddess who happened to be called Cosette, I think you should check him, he might have had a fever." My stomach clenched at that sentence. Memories flooding back to where I led Monsieur Marius yesterday at Rue Plumet. The words that I heard, the words that he would never tell me, and the words that I mumbled through the void. This pain was far more excruciating for me than any other fatal concrete pain that had been inflicted on me. It wore a massive damage to my, thus, generating a tear that contained almost every hurt I've received emotionally from that event. I failed to conceal myself and hopefully Monsieur Combeferre did not notice, but surely the drunk will. I opened a quarter of my eye and relieved to see that the drunk left.

"You're awake."

"It's just-"

"You love him don't you?"

"Who?" I said, but then he wiped out the tear that formed in my shivering cheeks.

"Marius," I didn't answer him.

"Sorry." He added.

"It's alright." I said then tried to sit up, "Are you done?"

"Yes."

"How can I repay your fee?"

"No need to do that."

"Impossible."

"Eponine, we must be true to our cause. And what is our cause? To help people," so that's it, there's really no sympathy in him, just pity. I should have known. But who cares anyway? No one. It's been like this ever since. No one would ever care, no one. My face betrayed a somber expression which earned a puzzled look from the medical student.

"Why?"

"Nothing, I got to go-"

"Wait-"he said as he scanned me.

"Oh! Damn." I said covering myself with a sheet of blanket. I quickly took my rags but then his hand gripped my wrist and said, "I actually have spare clothing, but it's for men. Are you alright with it?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then wait for a second," he said, searching his closet for the smallest clothing he could find, then gave them to me.

"Thanks Monsieur."

"Be safe."

"I will." I concluded as I silently left, clothed in a neater boy clothes. It looked the same as before, just a bit upgraded and clean.

And now I'm walking back to the slums, where I could keep myself to myself again. Because I'm now alone again, nowhere to turn, no one to go to; It's always been like this. I exhaled deeply as I was about to share another night to myself, every shadow of every person seems like a specter of Monsieur Marius' face. Only if this was real. But it wasn't I placed my shivering hands to my pocket and notice a few francs lying around. I pulled the coins out and saw an amount enough to feed me for a year, even to buy me a bottle of liquor. I proceeded to the nearest tavern and wished my chances for something eventful in a positive way. Running into Monsieur Marius would be great too.

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	8. Combeferre 2

**UPDATE! Alright thanks to Aereal for that Idea, and yeah It's been long since I've updated soo... I laacked sooooo much Ideas please suggest and I've been listening to classical pieces recently. Which is why the haunting sound here would be none other than Ludwig Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. I didn't write the first part for nothing; I just thought that maybe he could have a further use in the story when the climax comes.**

**DISCLAIMER: NO NO NO**

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My days of exhilaration after receiving francs worth a year of food didn't really last, after I ran into a tavern; I met a few people whom I know. That day was uneventful even so, but another week has passed. I never bumped into Monsieur Enjolras or any of the boys at Musain again; not even to Monsieur Marius. The truth is; I'm far away from Musain now. Where was I? No one knows, not even I. I'm left wandering around the streets left with the same dirty body that I'm used in being. The streets that I walk on are full of faces that I won't even dare to know. But the thing now is I afforded a small garret and live in it and ate decent food; at least, now my bones weren't too evident upon my skin, thanks to Monsieur Combeferre. I woke up early this morning, I needed to support myself; sooner or later, the coins that I have will soon disappear. I needed to maintain my lifestyle.

I walked across the cobblestones of Paris and still surprised that I wasn't bare-footed and didn't feel the shivering pavement upon my feet. I needed to work. Where would I find one? Let fate lead me. I walked aimlessly all throughout thinking of what things has in store of me. I paced through endlessly until my feet began to ache, but the most important thing here is; I heard a haunting melody. Coming from somewhere, I've never heard such music in my life before. I tried to follow the tune, wondering on where it will lead me. The narrow walls were enough to indicate that it was leading me to an area that is closed to commercial places. As I paced nearer, the sound exerts larger waves; until I stumbled into a large mansion. I knocked at the mansion, I don't know why but I did. I might get in trouble for this but something in me urges me to do it. I cast my gaze towards the cemented stairs leading to the houses door when finally someone opened the door. I stared at him from toe to head. Tall man, blonde curls, and most of all, a dandy; for a second, I would think it was Enjolras. But something in this man would tell me that he wasn't. He had another feature that made his face a bit distant from Enjolras'.

"Who's there?"

"No one," I replied, about to turn my back from him when he grabbed me by my arm.

"How did you find me here?"

"By accident," I said, trying to shrug his hands off when he stepped from the door and closed the distance between us.

"That couldn't possibly be."

"I heard a haunting sound."

"One does not simply hear a sound and follow it."

"But I did, so let go of me." He gripped my arm harder, I felt the blood stopped flowing right there. My upper arm turned pale. He smiled at the evident pain that was written all over my face, when did I become so weak? But his grip was hard! Possibly equally strong compared to Monsieur Brujon; but the thing is, it was on full force. "What are you plotting!?"

"Keeping you here, I rarely had any visitors." I raised a brow at his statement. Then I hovered my eyes around the dismal house. Keeping me there? That would be like, being imprisoned for life in a glumly state with a man with an uneventful life. I wouldn't. I kicked him in his groin while it bought me time to escape. I staggered relentlessly through the cloistered walls that seemed like an endless labyrinth to me. This isn't happening. Not today, not ever. I have already contemplated in changing my life; I don't want to return in that old disgusting life. Not when Monsieur Marius was so formal; ever since I met him, I despised the things I've been doing for half the years of my life. As I finally arrived at the open street, I stumbled across another dandy.

"Sorry Monsieur!" I said, proceeding aimlessly.

"Wait!" I looked back as I heard the familiar voice and then recognized the man.

"Parnasse? What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking that; first you disappeared for more than a few weeks, now you're here, all clean and healthy!"

"I should go."

"Wait!"

"What?"

"What is that mark upon your arm?"

"It is nothing."

"Is it?"

"Listen I got-"

"Ponine, I'm sorry for what we did to you the other day." I turned my back at him at this sentence of his. "It was just; we could have been millionaires, Eponine." I bit my lower lip, not replying and waiting for him to continue, with I wanted to know. He pulled me close to him in a warm embrace, "Eponine, come back." He whispered. Why was Montparnasse being like this all of a sudden? Why now? Oh, right, silly me. I knew he wanted something. He never cared when he didn't.

"Eponine-"

"Spit it out Parnasse, you want francs?"

"No, come with me."

"Why would I? I have just established my own life, just when I was-"

"Who supported you?" his tone turned in a jealous rage. It was more frightening when he was screaming than when he had this low and silent tone. I know Montparnasse, I just do.

"None of your damn concern."

"Is it that Pontmercy? Well he wouldn't, after-all; he doesn't really a care a straw for you." He muttered those harsh words that drove daggers through my heart.

"Go away." He placed his cold knife against my gut and muttered a few words, "You're coming with me, whether you like it or not." I placed a kiss upon his lips like cherries and slowly placed the knife back to his pocket. He leaned in to deepen the kiss, and when I caught him off-guard; I ran as fast as I could and where did that lead me? Closer to where I resided before, I placed my hand at the pocket of my threadbare coat and realized all of the francs of it our gone. _That devil Parnasse_. I have to admit, he was more of a pickpocket than I ever was. He was the one who taught me the way of the streets; or at least, father told him to teach me. I guess I have no choice but to return to Gorbeu.

On my way to some alley, I found it rather strange for me to notice and be concerned about three men robbing one helpless man. I couldn't see the guy clearly but, it took my attention anyways. I placed my shivering hand to one of the shoulder blade of the men who were subduing this helpless guy. Wow, I'm not trying to be heroic or anything but, well, I guess, ever since who-knows-what happened to me. For me, I found it rather strange; I didn't know who they were beating up, it was a vague figure. The man whom I placed my hand in turned to me and said, "Oh you're that Thenardier brat! Let's get out of here, we still owe Patron-Minette three francs!" they cowardly screamed as they ran to God-knows-where.

"Those chickens," I scoffed as I held my hand at the troubled lad without facing him. He took my hand and groaned in pain. I knew that groan somewhere, I just don't know where.

"Are you –"I turned my head and saw Monsieur Enjolras, "Monsieur Enjolras?" I asked as I unknowingly placed my arm to his shoulders to help him. "What brought you here?"

"I was on my way to Courfeyrac's flat." He said, quickly standing up like nothing happened. What a hypocrite. He thinks he could fool me? With that blasted expression? Never.

"Should I bring you to Monsieur Combeferre?"

"No, I'm alright Eponine."

"But-"

"There are still matters that concerns the revolution that is needed to be discussed with Courfeyrac,"

"Oh please! Don't act like there's nothing wrong." I said, striking his upper abdomen; where I saw the men clubbed him. He groaned in a manner that indicated excruciating pain. I smirked at my success and offered my hand again. "I told you."

"Fine." He snorted out. This inflated my ego, I'm always fond of being right.

I assisted him on our way to Monsieur Combeferre's flat, he was a heavy man. But he was silent all throughout, oh how fancy that is. People seeing the mighty leader of Café Musain being helplessly assisted by just another gamine roaming around Paris, this is precious. The walk to Monsieur Combeferre's flat was a long way from here, for this is the slums and the slums is far from where the higher society lives. I'm quite sure that by this very moment, Monsieur Enjolras would be stomping down at the back of his mind for ever accepting my help. Who was he kidding? No one can be perfectly humble; except Monsieur Marius of course. I missed him. I missed the way he grows his hair, I miss the way he looks at me when he needs something. I miss the times that I would walk into his door and realize there was a mirror on his bedside. I miss those times that he was there. Where was he now? At Courfeyrac's home; how I long to see him. Just merely seeing him is the cause of my day, just merely being touched by his is the cause of my ecstasy. My face formed a gloomy expression at these thoughts. I hid my face from Monsieur Enjolras and realized that we were at the doorstep of Monsieur Combeferre's home. I knocked at the door, and someone opened it. It was Monsieur Joly. He still had hints of laughter that indicated that they were on a rather joyous debate.

"Enjolras?" Monsieur Joly said in sheer shock upon this dreadful sight. "Dear God, Combeferre!' he screamed facing the stairs. "Come in." Monsieur Joly muttered breathlessly and hastily. When we were finally inside; I placed Monsieur Enjolras' weight upon the couch and dusted my hands off as Monsieur Combeferre came from the secondary floor to the first.

"Eponine, fancy meeting you here; I haven't seen you much around."

"Combeferre, Enjolras must have had an internal bleeding!" Joly panicked.

"Don't worry Joly, we'll see that. Might you want to entertain Eponine first as I check on Enjolras?"

"I will," he looked at me, smiling a wide grin. This sight was so contagious that it made my grin a smaller one.

Monsieur Joly assisted me to a long cushion that was painted with crimson and gold linings, and was as soft as cotton. We talked about various things that didn't made absolute sense, but at any words to describe it; it was fun. I seemed to have been drawn to Monsieur Joly; he even told me to call him Joly. Well, I couldn't refuse it; it's been tiring to call everyone with prefixes. While we were chattering mindlessly; Monsieur Combeferre came out of his medical room and approached me and Monsieur Joly. I shot him a puzzled look, asking what happened.

"Well, Enjolras received a minor beating compared to when you were left for dead, Eponine. But Enjolras; he's a man who could less endure those kinds of beatings, you were perhaps, a system stronger than him." Combeferre said as I shot him a glance that asked for more. We gave him no more than a silence, hoping for more details upon what was currently given. "Eponine could I ask you a favor?"

"Depending on what the favor is," I answered.

"I need you to look after-"

"That's impossible, Monsieur Combeferre."

"Look, Enjolras is someone without company. He might want to have someone to talk to or at least, see whenever he rises." Joly told me, with a persuasive glance. How could I refuse that glance? It's what Monsieur Marius always does when he needs something from me. Somehow, it reminded me of Monsieur Marius.

"That's true," Combeferre added, placing his sympathetic glance backwards to where his clinic was located.  
"What do I get?"

"Let's see…" Combeferre said in a state of thinking.

"What do you want?"

"I don't want anything particular, just offer up."

"Eponine, by living with Enjolras; you would have a nice garret, eat three times a day, and be no more problematic with your everyday needs." Combeferre reasoned. It was a nice offer but I'm not a bloodsucker. I knew the consequences it will bring to Enjolras. Papa might rob his house, and I'll be of course the suspect in it. Papa might suck out of the boys every franc until there's none left. I'm not that stupid.

"Would you rather that other person would look after him?" I told them.

"There's no one we could think of aside from you." Joly placed his hand upon my shoulder as he was muttering these things.

"You would for sure know the consequence, if I agree?"

"If it's about your father, we could probably seek out ways on how to deal with the matter." Combeferre said.

"This is not a game; you don't know what Papa is capable of doing."

"Eponine, please-" Joly pleaded.

"-I am just concerned about what will happen to everyone."

"Eponine, I insist." Combeferre mentioned in a stern voice.

"Fine, don't tell me I never warned you." I said, and fled from the garret of Monsieur Combeferre. I knew it was rude, but can't I keep myself for just one more time? I kind of hoped at the back of my mind that Enjolras heard our discussion and insisted that I would not. He's a grown up boy, no matter how absurd his dream for his Patria is; he can handle himself. Or had I been so cold in muttering those things to my mind?

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**Will Eponine decide to live with Enjolras for the time being? What do you think?**

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	9. Enjolras Ponders

**UPDATE! yay! Sorry for this incredibly short update, I had a REAL writer's block... But the good thing though, is I passed that subject... But it was a 75 soo T_T... But anyways, sorry for this short post... And yeah ANNOUNCEMENT: MY NEXT CHAPTERS WILL BE WRITTEN IN THIRD PERSON. I gave up on this first person craziness...**

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My obscure vision began to fade and I saw a much clearer view of where I really was; I was in Combeferre's clinic. But why was I even there? I didn't remember having a check-up this month for my healthy, nor did I remember myself getting sick this week. I sat from where I was lying down and my whole body felt pain. My whole body was aching to the extent that I landed back to lying down the white sheets of Combeferre. The fact that I was disabled to do anything was annoying; but the fact that I can't commemorate what really happened is worse than annoying. I started to clear my mind and retrieve the events that I figured did not happen long before. After five minutes of doing so, my mind went to its proper state and started flashing back the circumstances that happened prior to me being here; unable to do anything else than to think and lie down.

My mind started flooding these; I was on my way to Courfeyrac to recall the plans that we had for the upcoming recruitment for more people that what I have at the current moment, but then three men started to think of me as someone who has francs more than what he could live and tried to rob me. But yes, francs are needed in funding this revolution which is why I could not a single one go to waste. I thought I was strong to fight back but I was outnumbered, if they were only one, I bet I could triumph over it. But unfortunately they weren't one which is why they started clubbing me at different directions until somehow; my vision became blurry and bloody. That's when someone familiar started to scare them away, as far as the scarce memory my brain is giving; she looked like someone I've encountered more than once. But I recognized her finally and concluded she was Eponine, and she was trying to help me. I told her that I was fine and I don't need a doctor, she shot me a look of disbelief and struck me where the pain was crucial, after which, she carried me to Combeferre. Now that I guess explains why I'm here. I heard footsteps entering my room as I placed my vision to the door and saw Combeferre approach.

"Enjolras,"

"May I go home now, 'Ferre?" I asked him, mustering all the strength I have left to sit up.

"Enjolras, I need to talk to you about something."

"You have my ears; a good leader is a good listener." I said, still trying to look strong; even when it pains my body to just even talk.

"I will forbid you to return home until tomorrow, and then by that time; Eponine will look af-"

"That's ridiculous." Of all the people who would look after me, why that girl? I barely know her, and there had been rumors that her father was one of the wide-renowned criminal in Paris. And besides, I can handle myself pretty well.

"I know what you are thinking Enjolras, but we need someone to look after you."

"That's an insul-"

"Enjolras, we insist." He wore a stern look.

"Combeferre, this is not a discussion. My word is final," I spoke.

"No, Enjolras." His voice was in a competition with mine, I can see the persistence in his tone. Something that indicated me that he was a right man to choose for the revolution.

"We both know that I know about your medical status more than you do, and I insist that you need help. If you are weak, then who is there to make us strong? Without you, we are nothing but lost lambs getting the carnal life across Paris. We need you to heal faster, and this quick-witted girl is the perfect person to look after you. She will check on you from time to time." Combeferre ended, panting for air to come across his system. Everything he said was true; it was a bucket of cold water thrown at my face.

"Well then, if you insist I'll have to agr-"

"Thank you, Enjolras." I sighed. _What have I done? _But I supposed the real question is; what am I going to do? I am handicapped by my condition, I do not wish to further delay the coming of the republic. Above my condition, patria would always come first; oh dear, what shall I do with my idle time? I do not wish to confine myself in idleness that causes corruption of your very self. But if I wear myself out, I will be confined to my disability for a longer period of time. I guess this is the best term that Combeferre can give.

As the night continued to fade and the day was approaching, as an early riser that I always was, I rose up from the white sheets that I was confined on. This was the day that I get to go home and probably, by my idle time, I can sketch out a few plans for the barricade. This was not a matter to be shoved, No It mustn't, but as I was pondering here at this gloomy clinic, Combeferre entered, yet again and spoke to me. "Enjolras, you can go home now. I've talked to Eponine; she agreed to look after you from time to time." I have to admit, this matter is getting on me now, a companion? Let's see how far this goes. Combeferre assisted me into his carriage back to my flat. Bumps on the road placed gasps of pain in my throat. But alas! These only lasted for a few more minutes and we're finally at my flat. I have to admit; I missed it. Combeferre assisted me to the doorstep and handed me crutches to support my weight, I hated looking so fragile. Combeferre left a pat at my back as he opened the door and there was she, in a horribly arrogant position upon my crimson couch.

"Good Morning, Monsieur." She grinned.

"Ugh, hello" I said, shifting uncomfortably to the red couch. But then, after all the hormones that made me think bad about this girl yesterday, I realized that she was the girl I've been offering help to, consistently. Why am I so confusing? I tried to study the un-altering expression of this urchin before me; I tried to scan what was behind that delighted grin. That above all of her unhappiness, she was grinning, how could she? Maybe my days with her wouldn't be so gloomy after all. My eyes trailed down from her threadbare cap to her ragged-up feet. She was everything a broken flag that would symbolize. And probably by my time with her, I could strengthen the cause of our upcoming rebellion. But above all that, my eyes lingered upon her eyes. One moment she's staring directly at the papered wall, now she soundly sleeping. As I was examining her eyes, I realized something that haunted me one moment ago; her eyes were sullen. Beyond that vivid expression, there is a profound despair that lingered around her eyes. Eyes that exists for the least treatment from humanity.

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	10. ANNOUNCEMENT

**ANNOUNCEMENT:**

**THE NEXT CHAPTERS WILL BE WRITTEN IN THIRD-PERSON.**

**Sorry can't handle first-person.**

**Thanks for your prayers, I passed the subject.**


	11. Alone in unity

**An update! This time in third-person! I want to know your comments! Good or bad; review it!**

**Sorry for the shortness, I need to make this a cliffhanger.**

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Enjolras continued to stare spontaneously at the gamine, observing her auburn locks that were darkened by grime cascading over to her shoulders. Her brows seemed to form an anxious shape at the minute she was fell into slumber. _What could she be dreaming? _Enjolras slowly sat up and took his crutches and slowly went to his room. His room was big enough for two families to fit in. His canopy bed was made of silky crimson sheets and his pillows were made out of fine material. The wood that supported the bed was made out of cedar logs; the scent that eased Enjolras' mind. Still, in the far-right corner of his room; was a large bookshelf. The books were arranged in a very orderly manner; from fairytales, to biographies, to fantasies and to history. Personally, Enjolras' favorite among them would be the books and philosophies of Voltaire; an advocate of freedom. He simply admires the man for his tremendous wits and versatility upon his creations. Enjolras slowly paced towards his bed; muttering curses for the crutches that disabled him to walk faster, and the injuries at was throbbing upon his every move. As he was on his way to the bed, soundly footsteps came to him.

"Do you need help, Monsieur?" the gamine asked, with an unspoken question for permission to help the man. _You need help, just accept it._

"I am alright, you may now return to your slumber; mademoiselle." Enjolras spoke with a deep monotone as he continued to proceed towards the crimson mattress. _You needed help more than I ever did._

"Do you at least, need company?"

"That wouldn't hurt." Enjolras said pointing out his finger at the empty seat in front of his desk used for scribbling notes for the revolution. Eponine took the seat and tried as hard to sit like a well-mannered lady. "You know, you don't really need to be a refined lady around me." Enjolras smiled as he successfully proceeded to the mattress and sat up. A sharp and excruciating pain over-powered this act, basically sending a strained expression to Enjolras' pretty face.

"Hey, careful over there!" the gamine exclaimed, still wearing the same vigilant expression that defined her very self.

"Don't you fret about it," Enjolras spoke well-mannerly. The tension between the two was quite thick and Eponine was not in the right place to cut it, for even if she was the outspoken person that we all know. She knew her limits. "Tell me about where you live, mademoiselle."

"I do not think if I was even worthy to be called that." Eponine spoke, with a light sullenness evident atop her eyes.

"But you are a lady-"

"But I am a street rat." She concluded with those words; as thick as a knife that pierces through souls. _That's enough to shut you up_. Once again, an awkward silence took over both creatures. Minutes passed by and there was no words spoken. But that's when Eponine decides to break the silence surrounding both of them, "I've got to go." She said, searching for a nod from Enjolras, and therefore, she received a nod from Apollo. Only the footsteps of the gamine and the breathing of Enjolras were heard after the phrase that was said reservedly. Once again, Enjolras is alone. _Her defenses are so thick; it would probably a waste of time to get through them anyways. But why would I even interest myself to get through them? When I clearly have a bunch of other things to do that makes greater significance_. His eyes automatically closed as his system urged him to drift into deep slumber. _There is a week more to go, before I am completely well. What shall I do in those sullen weeks?_

Eponine strode across the cobbled stones of Paris, and upon her sight; was a galloping gamin. It was from the direction of Café Musain, where the meetings of _Abaisse (The Friends of ABC)_ were held. It was Gavroche, her brother. Eponine locked her vision towards the galloping child, and finally concluded that it was her dear brother, specially galloping at her direction. His appearance was as if he was to tell her something that came from another person, presumably Monsieur Marius; or at least that's what Eponine expected.

"Eponine," he muttered breathlessly, in an attempt to catch his breath and wipe his sweat by his hands that were dusted with foul grime. But the grime was a bit lighter than before, that was because he often was with Courfeyrac.

"Hold your horses Gavroche; is there something that you want to tell me?" She said, while he grinned.

"What's up with you and Combeferre?" Eponine's eyes widened at this statement of her dear little gamin. _What's up with Combeferre and me? _She finally shrugged and said, "I have no inch of idea what you are talking about."

"Come on, 'Ponine, he asked me about you."

"Why did he?" Eponine said as the young gamin gave her nothing but a shrug. "What did he said anyways?" She asked.

"He told me to send his regards to you, and he told me to tell you to take care." Gavroche spoke in great haste. "Wait, what?" Eponine said, with the unspoken command towards Gavroche to repeat his sentence.

"Combeferre told me, to tell you to take care." Gavroche said in exaggerated slow motioned words. Eponine patted his hair, gave him a smile that somehow for some reason looked like a frown; and made her way to somewhere random. Unfortunately as it almost always is, she bumped into a Patron-Minette member. What a co-incidence.

"What a co-incidence!" The dandy exclaimed cupping Eponine's cheek with his delicate and well pastured hand. Eponine rolled her eyes.

"Is it?" She asked, shoving the hand off her cheeks. "Montparnasse, is it a co-incidence?" She asked, raising her brow brashly with a hard and arrogant expression that was remarkably visible upon her face.

"What's wrong with you, Eponine?" Montparnasse asked, searching her face for possible answers. The change of tone, the change of gaze and the change of movement; _this is not the Eponine I knew_. "Look, I'm sorry." He said. In the midst of the pair's complicated relationship, there was somehow gentleness about the evident roughness.

"Are you?" She asked, rhetorically. "Are you sorry for everything that you've been?" She asked, sounding more like confronting him. "Are you sorry for every hateful word that was drawn out of your tongue? Oh well, you're not." She looked directly at his eyes, "That doesn't matter anyways. I've received worse." She said, careful not to blink out the wetness that was forming about her eyes. "I've received worse." She repeated under her breath as she carefully turned away from the confused dandy.

"Tell me what's wrong." Montparnasse held her by her skinny shoulders.

"What's wrong?" She asked rethorically, this time very careful with her sentence. But more likely, careful not to drop the tear that is forcing itself out of her eyelids. Montparnasse pulled Eponine closer to him and closed the proximity of their distance. He placed a piercing gaze upon her wet eyes and whispered, "Tell me."

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	12. Liquor and Disobedience

**UPDATE! Oh yes, I know that there's been actually no reviews... And I'm running out of ideas which is why; I managed to pull this off.**

**Oi I have no plans about Mont/Ponine yet but... I'll keep them around!**

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Montparnasse clutched Eponine's scrawny arms and placed a long stare upon Eponine's damp eyelids; with all randomness that is due, there is no guessing whether this stare was a sincere one or something that's filled with deceit. "Tell me, Eponine; what happened?"

"Get off me, deceitful scum!" she called him, glaring at him intently; an act that most probably touched Montparnasse' nerves. His face changed.

"Why are you like this? Who changed you," he took a handful of Eponine's hair and used it to drag her towards the bricked wall, thus pinning her from where she is. Montparnasse, still gripping Eponine's hair, took a knife out of his slender waist and placed it inches away from her neck. Eponine's tiny frame hit the concrete wall painted with faded red; it seems like an aged wall. Montparnasse continued his pretentious crimson rage and glared directly at Eponine, "Answer me!" She looked at him with disdain and arrogance. _She doesn't just give up, she's Eponine. But please tell me, Eponine. If this is the only way you can tell it; I worry too. _"Your knife doesn't scare me." She said blankly; this action made the dandy release his hold on her. _I've grown Parnasse, I've grown. _Montparnasse' eyes widened, making a distant relationship of a confrontation. _You've grown so distant, Eponine_. _But if there's anyone in here who could pull the strings better than you, that would be me. _"The boy will never love you," with these words, he trailed away; leaving a broken person along the way._ You're still a child, you are always one._ Eponine, still breathless in that one fated corner took a deep sigh and sat beneath.

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A dark shadow seemed to overpower the sun's ray upon Eponine's shadow. "When does a boy become a man?" She glared at the familiar timbre. She didn't answer. "When a man emerges out of the boy" _Isn't that obvious? She thought. _This man truly worked enough to have lent Eponine's ears. She listens, wallowing around the silence; she listens. "When does a girl become a woman?" He asked, as if talking to himself. "Once she realizes that she is not alone." She carefully studied the man's shoes, as it was the only part of the man that was available to her sight. "But when does a woman return back into a girl?" This time, she responds. "When she cowers away from a situation." She spoke, evident hoarseness that added to her already raspy voice. "When she thinks that she is in control." The man corrected. _Who is this man? Why does he care? Why does he know? _Eponine carefully scans the man but he is gone; she's alone again.

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From a distant corner, she could hear the people crying in numbers; it wasn't a cry of hate, it wasn't a cry of sadness, but it was a battle cry. I paced closer from where the sound is coming from, it started to get less obscure; a clearer vision was laid out. It was people crying for the republic; it was the cry of freedom. Eponine paced through the where the crowd was evidently thick, but then a rather near sight made her grin with ecstasy, at the same time; frown with disappointment. Monsieur Marius was there, on the public; screaming for the republic. Enjolras was there too. Eponine's eye widened at this sight. _What is that fraud doing here? It's been just four hours! _She hastily staggered through the crowd towards where Marius and Enjolras are. Not wanting to make a scandalous entrance, she waited out of the public's view where the rest of the boys were. Apparently only a few were there_. Probably those who were tricked by Enjolras to join him; the ones who were stupid enough to agree, Combeferre is not here. _Eponine sat near the corner; she felt the eyes of the people placing an intent look on her scrawny figure. Eponine then realizes that she wasn't in her usual male disguise, apparently; her appearance emerged more like a woman than a boy.

She waited for a few more minutes until Enjolras and Marius came out of the stage and went to where Eponine was. "A failure," Enjolras muttered, with that defeated look upon his face.

"People would not really like an injured leader." Grantaire spoke inebriated.

"A beautiful ship would absolutely be useless without a sensible cargo." Enjolras spoke, holding out his crutches. Earning a few support from his pets. _Oh please, Enjolras_; the gamine thought.

"But a beautiful damaged ship should stay at its homeland until it is well." Courfeyrac entered, along with Combeferre; as if raiding the place.

"I am enthralled, Enjolras." Combeferre muttered calmly, after the brilliant counter-speech of Courfeyrac against their leader. "You only worsen your situation."

"The wretched needs me more than I need myself, we must wage on the given task"

"Combeferre is right, Enjolras; you might end up having a serious illness. And if that happens, everything we would have to fight for will go to waste. The hopes of the wretched will be crushed, the dream republic will most likely never happen. It's a; lose-lose situation." Joly spoke, with enough optimism out of the critical words. Apollo shifted uncomfortably towards the empty chair beside Marius.

Eponine, being the outspoken and abrupt person that she is, intended to interrupt with the brilliant conversation exchanges between the students; but being the practical and clever person that she is, she decided to leave it to them and observe. _Perhaps I can just speak out whenever it's needed_.

"Enjolras, I'll help you return home." Combeferre offered, still not noticing the gamine at the far-end of the table. But so did the others.

"Apollo, perhaps you need more rest." Jehan spoke; ever as witty and poetic.

Grantaire stood up to take more whiskey and finally noticed Eponine by the corner, "Oh if it isn't the tail of Marius!" He screamed; leaving Marius to tilt his head towards Grantaire, now raising Eponine by her arms.

"Eponine?" the mighty Apollo asked, with a confused look. Unspoken words were visible through Enjolras' reaction. _What are you doing here? _Eponine simply raised a brow in the most tentative way possible and said, "I should be going then."

"Eponine, I do think that you should come with us." Combeferre added, opening the door and assisting Enjolras towards the carriage.

"Is it really required?"

"Well, do you have other things to do?" Combeferre, optimistically, asked.

"Well, aside from the fact that I need to feed myself and earn a living; no," Eponine shrugged. _I basically have lots of things to do than guard Monsieur Enjolras._

"We can provide you food." Combeferre said, in the most diplomatic way as possible. _Eponine, you basically don't need to worry about anything. _

"Oh well, then, Papa might trace down Monsieur Enjolras' flat." She said. _I'm more dangerous than you think. _

"Don't worry about your father, we would handle him." Combeferre replied. _We've talked about this before._

"Well, if you insist." Eponine stepped up to the carriage, helped by Combeferre.

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Nothing was muttered for the whole ride towards Enjolras' house; there was no vividness about disobedience. Enjolras practically looked like a child caught red-handed; his reasons were invalid whatever he says. Eponine looked somehow neutral, but coated with sullen toughness as usual. As for Combeferre, he is observing the streets; eyes hovering around the children, the driver, the poor and the rich. Combeferre wished that Joly was there; perhaps the silence could be broken. As the carriage reached Enjolras' flat, there was that old scenery; Enjolras could hardly walk straight, which is why he is assisted by Combeferre. Eponine follows both of them as they entered the flat. The same old situation that that would never seem to change for the whole week; but let's face it, Eponine was profoundly annoyed by this truth, she isn't fond of these.

Once Combeferre bade them goodbye, there was yet another silence that filled the atmosphere. Breaths were heard; vague sound movements lost its obscurity. Silence coated both creatures' mouth and did it coat both of what they have to say. Someone has to break the silence, and it oftentimes starts with the one who has a greater level of emotion.

"I didn't leave for nothing." Enjolras mumbled; this made Eponine shift her head towards Enjolras.

"You can't handle yourself yet, I'm sure you are aware of that." Eponine spoke, as if answering indirectly.

"Those folk need reformation; it needs to be done as soon as possible." Enjolras said, still remaining in the reformatory speeches.

"It's not a crime." Eponine said.

"Crime?"

"You, leaving to speak for the people."

"If the time is not shortened, we will surely and more likely be caught by the government." Enjolras said.

"Reformation will not be possible." said Enjolras, "Reformation will be impossible," in chorus with Eponine. They looked at each other.

"Are you taking the pessimistic side?" Enjolras asked.

"What's pessimistic?" The curious girl asked.

"The negative side," answered Apollo.

"Oh, forgive me." She bit.

Once again, they hushed; the atmosphere was then again painted with quietude, but not for long.

"I guess I'm stuck with you for six more days." He mumbled to himself. Eponine glared at him; which the man had taken no offense of.

"Have you ever tried liquor?" She asked.

"Before we started planning the revolution, yes," he spoke, but even before she could reply, he added, "Before I was enlightened on how time is important, yes."

"It isn't so bad, you know?" before he could contradict her, she spoke again, "It's a way of keeping yourself to yourself and keeps you away from loneliness." _Bourgeois, you're not the only one who can counter-speak_.

"But it also exploits humankind." Memories came rushing down to Eponine through this tiny statement. On what the memories were; it is nothing but dismal, obscene and miserable. Her blood froze and her cheeks turned pale, her hands were cold.

Truly, the statement of Apollo had rather hit a vital part of Eponine's life; it seems to be one way to penetrate her tough figure. The memories that flooded were somehow vital; reminiscing them is a page added to misery, refreshing them step closer to a more dismal life. And this is what Enjolras successfully unlocked.

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**Oooh look at that! Anyways, I know that wasn't what you were expecting but... Oh well...**

**Reviews are GREATLY appreciated by me soo...**

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	13. Grantaire

**UPDATE! Ha, thanks for your review. Soooo! Here's another chapter! INTRODUCING... TADADADA! GRANTAIRE!**

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Enjolras never noticed Eponine's characteristics changed; they never looked at each other, and never felt each other. There was no connections established between the two; what they are acting out to each other is very normal. It was calm for Enjolras' side, but tension at Eponine's side. The memories pressed it even more as the reminiscing part was highly shoved by the subject; the more you try to not think of it, the more you think of it. This is what practically happened at Eponine's part. Where else could she run to? Enjolras, this time, looked at the frozen gamine. "What's wrong?" Eponine snapped back to her senses, all the blood flowed back. "It's nothing, it's just probably cold." Enjolras knew the sentence; but his sensitivity was invalid. "Oh well, it's alright."

"Alright what?" she asked.

"You may go to the wine shop, I'm alright in here." He smiled out.

"Oh," she said, once again understated. _You're still far from informed, bourgeois. _Eponine nodded at him and left the wooden door, something that stood through the years. It was well-preserved; but weak. Just like the bourgeois himself; who never experienced what he was fighting for. Who screamed about empty words, one who never knew what it was like to be a wretched.

Eponine, once again alone, walked through the lonely streets of Paris. Eponine was somehow related to the night, it was her friend; it hides her face from the world. The night made her shudder, with cold, with starvation, and with loneliness. What does it feel like to be alone? It was fear itself that took form through the night, by the gritty gutters, by the sound of whores, by the scent of infidelity. Eponine was one with the night, a broken flag; a stained-up creed. It is misdemeanour turned to series of crimes. The proximity of being bad to worse is just an inch away; the degradation has gone too far.

The rustling leaves left a light winter wind; the shirt on her back never kept out the chill, her overcoat was paper thin, her newsboy cap was threadbare, the belt that fastened her belt is hastily withering. The look that she wore was a look of weariness, it was done for. She survived through the day; she never got to simply exist, she never got to simply live. _You have no purpose; keep that in mind Eponine. _She's what we rarely knew as a rose among thorns; a rose in misery. The beauty that withered was vaguely evident on her face. A girl at the age of sixteen emerged from the creature seems like a woman more than fifty; youth could have happened. If humanity cared more, but they did not; fatality was pressed and hope was begrudged. From a farther glance, you would see a lady, along with her Papa and Maman. _This is what I could have been; this is what we could have been. _The journey seemed to last for just a few minutes by the ponder-filled walk.

Eponine entered at the wine shop's door, filled with old boys; boys indeed. They are men, but nevertheless; boys. Ones who had no had no plans for the future and lead the life of mediocrity, ones who starts the mellow with the wine, ones who has the philosophy of drink-today-die-tomorrow, ones who celebrate through idleness, ones with sepulchral and grave problems and drinks out their demons, ones who were simply passing the day by. Eponine entered the room, with anxiety towards the unknown. It was not the first time she entered it, but it was the first time ever she was anxious about it. Must it be a pre-caution or a premonition towards something; she did not know.

She strode across the room towards the empty stool facing the bartender. The bartender's face was rather young, but wrinkled with exhaustion, his face was warm and welcoming yet filled with mystery, his lips abruptly curved into a bland expression once another customer comes in; unspoken phrase, "Yet another work to do" was noticeable. But at the right side of the stool where Eponine sat was boy; a boy who looks like he's been vomited by life. There was no misery upon his expression; it was rather blank. His jet black locks cascaded down his eyebrows as he soundly asked for a refill. His eyes of blue were understated by the tasteless actions that he previously has been doing. He was a man that is better drunk than sober; with liquor that is more than a best friend. He wasn't an optimist, that's for sure; but that only added to him being a radical drunk bourgeois. And apparently, he goes by the name Grantaire. Eponine did not recognize the man, but she knew him; a fair acquaintance.

"Any liquor that would suit two francs," Eponine gracelessly said. When did she even bother about grace? There was no time that she did, except for when it was blatantly urgent. _Just give me something that would get me wasted._

"Sorry dear, we do not have anything less than five francs." The bartender grumpily, yet tender with intention; replied.

"Oh well," she said, trying the scan her pocket for more francs. _It's better in whore houses; at least they have free liquors. _She placed on a pathetic expression; probably to collect pity from the bartender to lower his prices, but who was he? A mere employee, but who was the man beside her? A bourgeois; Grantaire handed five francs to the bartender as the bartender handed Eponine's two francs back and gave her a fairly strong liquor. She smirked at Grantaire; a sign of gratitude, through the way of the streets.

"I know you, from somewhere. I just can't remember." Grantaire stated, inebriated in both tone and expression, but what's new anyways? _I know you; just formally tell me who you are. Like you, I need company._

"Eponine," she said blankly, sounding not interested enough for a well discussion._ You know me, and you saw me._

"Eponine?" he asked. _If it's a game of domination, you're not winning over me._

"Yes," she answered. _Monsieur, I am from the streets, but more than that; I am a Thenardier. And in the art of pulling the strings, I've mastered It; Bourgeois._

"Oh! I do remember, perhaps you were at Combeferre's clinic? Weren't you?" he gave in. _And you were bare._

_And I was bare. _Words that were unspoken were crystal clear beyond the eyes of both creatures, seeking out company; seeking out significance. "Precisely." She replied, answering the concealed and the blatant question.

The bar tender served Eponine the liquor that was worth the five francs of Grantaire; the gamine seized the substance in galloping minutes. The inebriated man was rather enthralled, and also; satisfied. "I am enthralled, my dear friend." _Why were you Marius' friend again? _

She nonchalantly snickered at the drunk. _If you'd be happy to give me yet another wine, I'll happily drink it for you. _If anyone would be a good mind-reader, that would be Eponine, but also; Grantaire. He paid another five francs for Eponine's delight. She returned with a devilish smirk.

"You know, it wouldn't be so wrong to talk about petty stuff." Grantaire murmured to himself, directing the words to the scrawny figure.

"A space out of those radicals?" she laid the rhetorical question, _a time away from those 'boys'? Sure. _He laughed, "Will the wonders ever cease?" _Yes, Eponine, I'm too dumb for any of them. _"I've always needed some air out alone..."

"-And this place is the perfect venue." She finished out for him. _I'd do anything, just to be someone like you, who can blend with the boys; who get to converse with Monsieur Marius so naturally..._

It wasn't a long time before both subjects mixed together through wallowing in their solitude; wine was their friend.

Darkness fully cloaked the hour as midnight approached. The moon swallowed the sun all-through their endless chase. The rays of the sun had temporarily lost its glory and were replaced by the illuminations of the stars, along with the night's regal queen. It was past the darker hour; it was now; the darkest hour. Midnight. Where creatures of the night lurks around; mischief, garrotters, vagabonds, pick-pockets, robbers, cons, and others. The night contains the epitome of evil, but also; good. For it was symbolical, through history; unparalleled alliances, bonds and ties were formed during the night.

"We're closing." The bartender said, in his normal bland expression.

"Well then, let me escort you home." Grantaire spoke.

"I don't have a home." She pronounced. _And when did you ever escort someone?_

Grantaire's head tilted to the bartender and asked him, "Do you rent rooms?" and he received a nod from the bartender.

"Oh but, I'm alright." She said, _I can't tell you that I'm staying at Enjolras' home; that would explode gossip. _"I'm a Thenardier; I can sleep anywhere."

"Then at least, let me give you francs." This statement touched a sensitive nerve.

"I'm not a charity, old boy." She said, leaving the man smirking.

"Goodbye." He muttered, to himself. _Perfection._

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**Lil grantaire/eponine cuteness... seriously, why doesn't anyone ship them like they do with enjolras/eponine!**

**REVIEWS! PLEASE**


	14. Wine Shop again

**UPDATE! Alright sorry for the umm lengthy wait! Well I ran out of ideas**

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Eponine went out of the tavern's door; outside the world of being inebriated, wasted and being a comical nonsense. She exited her sanctuary; and that process also included stepping back into reality. Reality of everything that surrounds her was never vibrant; everything was deformed, misshapen, gloomy, dismal and sullen. She brushed away strands of her that fell to her face as she sighed in deep quietude. Where was she going to go to? The light died and the night is fading. Back to her baby-sitting jazz? Of course. There are people that are too weak to defy the laws of the world; they are incapable of such things. Even if they have the will to do things; they lack the strength to do it.

She walked through the streets as the dusk was slightly fading into the morning's breeze that brushed her hair through the other side of her face. Somehow it felt cold and empty. But this is what she gets; people like her are just so good at accepting what is given. The withered leaves collected through the monotonous colour of the lonely streets leading back to the flat where Apollo lives. She wrapped her arms around herself to feel the warmth of her temperature in contrast with the northern wind.

Walking, talking and pondering. Her everyday routine; boring as it is, there is an escapism that sends her into an artificial world. Surreal things do happen after all; in daydreams.

But not long after the long-walks; she reached Enjolras' flat. Opened the door and shocked to see the young man standing in front.

"You've been out all night." He said, as if trying to pull out an answer from her.

"I was at the wine shop." And so, automatically; she answers the rethorical question to be said after the first question.

"Yeah, welcome back." He retreated towards his room. He studied yet another book; skimmed through the pages, actually.

And she followed him.

"What is that?"

"Romeo and Juliet,"

"What is that?"

"For never was a story of more woe / than this of Juliet and her Romeo." He mumbled silently; not answering the question in a direct manner.

"What?"

"Romeo and Juliet is a masterpiece of William Shakespeare; one of the most tragic story ever written. Verona is depicted as a violent and feuding city, with two noble families battling in an ongoing war. Romeo and Juliet, the progeny of these families become involved in a passionate and hasty love affair, and are forced to keep their love hidden from their respective families. This leads to the deaths of both characters and emphasises the strength of their love and highlights the tragic aspect of the play as the Montagues and Capulets decide, too late, to put their feud behind them." This summary piqued the interest of the young wretch.

Tangling her reasoning, she replied unexpectedly, "And therefore-"

"-The tragedy ends," said he.

"-The story is nonsense," said she.

Both looked at each other as if they were sighing over some invisible mistake that was written out in the open air. Little did they both know that debated was an obsession and friend for both of them; thus, piqued.

"Two lives placed everything at peace, that's what's good about the stupidity." Enjolras said, trying to justify his shortcoming. He faced his chair at Eponine and handed the book over to her, "Why don't you read it?"

"O-Of course!" she said, stuttering through her words. She knew how to read, she did take lessons when she was at a young age. She took the book and retreated back to the room that was destined for her. He smiled at her; _I do hope that she knows how to read._

She was there, inside a big room with a suffocating air around it. It made her feel claustrophobic, the air seemed like masses of solid object trying to close itself around her; but there it was, the book; A book that would probably bring her around another destination. Where her dream could freely roam; dramatic as it is, these were her thoughts. She started to scan and skim the book; and found out that there were little words that she understood.

And then there was he, looking over the opposite window that went past to her room; in which he caught a sight of her. In which through the physical pain, there was someone brought to his shelter; someone who possibly beats against his passion, yet shares the sullenness of being alone. He watched as she tried her best to understand everything, hesitating to help her; Pride. _She definitely would come to Marius about this book. _And nevertheless, he was right. The dusk faded and the dawn was soon wavering; sunshine hovered through the atmosphere.

The sun stroked her hair as it complemented with the auburn locks darkened by grime, as it perfected her imperfect shape. Which magnified the hope that's about to rise from this creature. She rose from the bed she was in, and left the garret; hoping to find Monsieur Marius, or some friendly face. True enough, she did bump to him, "-Eponine!" he said, with the same nonchalant smile that he wore around everyone.

"-Monsieur! I just needed help with-" she said,

"-Oh! That reminds me, Eponine you must hear me out!" he pleads, and once he pleads; she's automatically dogging around him.

"What is it, Monsieur?" she asked, happy with the little ignited conversation.

"I've been meeting over with her, and then I felt all the vibrant colours of my life flowing back, now I want to ask her to be my wife! Oh Eponine, I can't wait to ask her." He said, and her stare was ghosting over his figure; as if he's a translucent creature. All opacity has gone out of her sight. "-Eponine, are you in there?" he asked waving a hand over her face, holding her tiny waist. But once again, she was bewitched by his spell over her.

"Yes, I wish you good luck..." he left, "...Monsieur" she ended. She felt wavering, once more; wrapping her arms around herself, once more. She was alone; or so she thought. Because when a person is attacked by the extremity of boredom; nonchalance sets in; when it does, he does the first thing that comes to his mind.

"You really love him don't you?" the man in golden locks asked.

"The distance between heaven and earth wouldn't even measure how much I love him..." she said, involuntarily answering. But he wasn't made of steel; he saw her wavering. She needed more help than he ever did; she cradled him in the most tough manner, but she still did. It was his time to pay her back. "Come with me," she didn't dare to hesitate and came with him.

It wasn't in her nature to cry in a man's arms; but it wasn't his nature to cradle someone either.

"Hush Eponine, forget it all for now. Live again, fight and survive; like you always do." He said.

"...I would always will, but there are times when people are too tired, how can I ever live, without the only light illuminating my dark path" replied the gamine who's shooting a far-away glance towards the wooden cupboard of the wine house. She revealed a little thing and that was something, he may not realize it but it was.

"Smile like you've never cried, fight like you've never lost, love like you've never been hurt; live like you'll die tomorrow." He said, placing a pat on her subtle back. "Eponine, live life to the fullest."

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**Oooh cliffhanger and cuteness!**

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	15. Winter's transition to Spring

**AN UPDATE! What a miracle, lol. Actually, when I came home from school; I was excited to write this. I knew I had to insert the barricades sooner. And it is about to approach! Thanks for that one review btw! Really gave me another inspiration to think that I still have people that's reading my story. OMG AND THANKS TO UNICORNSQUE! THAT PERSON'S MASTERPIECE LITERARY WORKS IN MAKES ME INSPIRED AS AN ASPIRING 14 YEAR OLD AMBITIOUS AUTHOR! ****Suggestions? Comments? Review it!**

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Snow began to fall through the window as Eponine slept soundly through the soft cushion at Enjolras' chest. Where she murmured fragile words; words that she would never say when either sober or awake. These are words that cut through conscience like a thick dagger, words that pierce through souls like a silver sword; words that Enjolras never heard through the days that she had been sleeping in the next room. And then her face, her face was in deep agony; unparalleled somberness the he had never seen in his entire life. A girl who could muster the strength to face everything, yet flow with it at the same time. _And then who was I to tell her to stand up; when she will likely do it. _

_Perhaps a good night's sleep is the best that someone would give her at these moments. _And then it was there yet again, hot tears streaming down her face; cascading upon his well-tailored coat. For an unknown reason it pierced through him; likewise when something pinches the heart. He signaled to the bartender if they had any available rooms in which she could retreat to; luckily, there was. It is far from impossible to carry her featherlike weight back to his garret. But he concluded that this was best and the most unselfish option; or so he thought.

Enjolras carried Eponine to the room that was available to both of them; may it be a single bed, he'd be alright. _I can sleep in the couch or perhaps not sleep at all. _He laid her weight down the bed as he stood there motionless for a minute; and finally retreated to the wooden couch. He pondered like she always did; but he wasn't aware of this. What does the future have in store for him? When will the strategy and tactics for the revolution be laid out? And most likely; when will the revolution be? And through his hours of pondering and contemplating; she woke with a vague expression. The first word that came out of her subtle mouth was, "Monsieur Marius."

"He is blind, Eponine," He said, now eager to convince her that there are more things significant than a silly infatuation.

"Even so," she said; her words still non-fixated and shallow.

"Even so?"

"Even so, we all have our own weaknesses," she continued, her words stronger than the ones before it.

"Eponine, forget." He said as he watched her stand up. _That wasn't the best word. _But then his eyes glided down to her figure; realizing how her rags magnified her waist. How her grimy hair cascaded down perfectly through the thread-bare piece of clothing that looked like a shawl when it was still sturdy. How her sullen eyes just perfected the curves of her face; from her jaw line to her forehead and to her hair. He wasn't a perfect person; and she wasn't as clean either. He paced closer to her, feeling a different and strange tension all of a great sudden. But even so, he never forgot his words; and he wasn't the type of man to not finish what he started, "Eponine, forget all about it. You've carried your cross for too long." _It's time for you to live._ _You're done living by scraps; you're done existing for the benefit of others. Live. _Surprisingly, she closed the inches that made them distant from each other; her chest touching his.

"Then make me, Enjolras." That was enough said.

The weight of Eponine was slammed through the wall by the fierce and passionate kisses that Enjolras held and dropped to her. From a little while, it was on her face; and then a little later it ended up going slowly way down. Silence coated the air, nothing was muttered except for moans, pleads and panting. Her slender and grimy fingers caught his golden locks as his hands found her delicate waists. The spark that they held were conducted to their own needing bodies as the heat transferred them down to the mattress. He gave her a look asking for permission; all that was said was a nod. And then the clothes were discarded, the limbs were tangled and the sweats were dropping.

Dreams were cast yet again by both person; seeking the need. What the other lacks; the other half complies. It was a night that was to be forgotten; yet remembered in quietude. That night that should be buried through the deep caverns of oblivion; and yet, kept by the gleaming and somber heart. The night faded into morning; the bed was shared by two creatures that needed each other.

Sunrise clashed into Eponine's hair and Enjolras' eyes were slightly opened. _If this was a mistake, then let it happen again. _He saw her, completely; physically, and emotionally. But more significantly; he felt her. And somehow that was enough. The sun's blazing red color blended with Eponine's tousled grimy hair. Her tattered rags somehow signified something that only epiphany made him realize. The mistress that he had always claimed could have been standing in front of him for the whole time; _Patria_.

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**The demands of our _reality function_ require that we adapt to reality, that we constitute ourselves as a reality and that we manufacture works which are realities. But doesn't reverie, by its very essence, liberate us from the reality function? From the moment it is considered in all its simplicity, it is perfectly evident that reverie bears witness to a normal useful _irreality function_ which keeps the human psyche on the fringe of all the brutality of a hostile and foreign non-self. - Gaston Bachelard**

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Enjolras slept through his recovery that lasted longer than expected; more likely, it was for the whole winter season. Eponine's job was done. The interaction was done, and it all returns to normal in this day. Long-breathing dreams and reveries of the revolution were far-fetched when he was in his incapable state; but now the goal lives on. Enjolras' revolution never wavered; far from the example of the autumn turning to winter for the season.

The leaves began to grow back to their roots as the most awaited season returns; one that favors with the flowers and makes love lengthy. It is the season where the animals move out of their shells and back to the vibrant colors of spring. The flowers bloomed all together in the colors of the rainbow; the society was happy. Every blood that the winter froze silently flowed back to the veins of nature; spring approached.

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**OMG It's now here... SPRING! Which means? BARRICAADE! (plays les mis' entrance track)**


	16. General Lamarque

**Update! So, I finally knew how this story would end! And when I'm done; I'm re-writing everything and post it as a new story; broken down in two parts.**

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From the exterior brown brick walls to the interior wooden walls, from the smell of coffee beans and from the laughter circling around, from the books to the pens; that sure was the atmosphere that Enjolras had missed for the last winter season. Now that he is back, the hearts of the boys had been gleaming with excitement and nervousness. Apollo has awakened. Enjolras entered Café Musain's glass door as the Friends of ABC crowded around him with countless questions, but then began to sit as he stood in his normal podium; shining with glory and excitement. "Well, we need to prepare; the sooner the better; and that better is now." He stated, and everyone released a cheer. "Courfeyrac, prepare the guns and muskets; we need everything we can get." He commanded. It was a sudden command; but it was the best fit for the circumstance. "Feuilly, Combeferre, and all the others-"he said and saw Grantaire standing, "-Except for you Grantaire." The man frowned and went back to his seat as the others stood; ready to receive the order. "Go out to every region near Paris, we need to collect our allies. Convince the people and win their hearts, do the best that you can; I wish you luck." Everyone then proceeded to go to their respective missions.

Grantaire and Enjolras were the only people left that had to stay inside the now-glum Café Musain; silence lingering around the room. Thoughts processed through each other's mind; Grantaire being cynical, Enjolras being all about the rebellion and perhaps the wasted man in deep thinking. "Well?" Grantaire muttered, tapping his fingers over the table, waiting for an explanation. Enjolras curved his brows to an exhausted expression, perhaps pretending not to hear Grantaire's little comment, _it's not that I don't trust you; it's that I cannot see your doing these stuff. _

The thick air of tension between the two was cut off by the rushing figure from the door of Café Musain. "Marius, late again," Grantaire stated, smirking at his comment that's about to be said, "-Where's that little street girl that dogs around you for the past seasons?" he asked, candidly; but there's some indirect and invisible cold bucket of water that splashed tremendous amounts of sprinkles to Enjolras' face. _Where was she? Where was that girl that used to tend me?_

"I am not sure, Grantaire-"Marius said, with his face slightly lighting; a pre-requisite for the statement that follows, "But! I do have good news-"

"-Did you earn patrons from Notre Dame and the slums?" Enjolras jumped into the conversation, shoving the distractive thoughts away.

"I'm afraid not, but Cosette-"

"Marius, could you slip into a corner and realize that we have higher calls than care about our own little damned lives?"

"Damned indeed," Grantaire remarked. _We're all damned in this barricade; I'm only sticking because of you. _

"Enjolras, I am well aware, but have you taken an interest in love? Did you ever know how it feels like? How the vibrant blood that froze from loneliness melts along with the warmth of summer? Have you ever been actually in my shoes that you can judge whether this feeling is of significance or not?" but apparently, the boys were listening; they came back when they heard Marius speak that would bring in the support of the masses. They all decided to enter, hearing a pause from Marius. But old boys are still boys; and they tend to almost never grow up.

"Sounds like someone is in need of a mistress, "Jehan exclaimed, seeming like a boy; an old boy. But before Enjolras could even iron the argument; comments started to wave upon him like a ship raging through the angry storm.

"I know a really good new virgin in the brothel!" someone exclaimed,

"Enjolras, some ladies have taken quite a silent liking at you!" the other added.

"My friend, you need some romantic love in your air!" another stated with yet another statement, "Enjolras, we know that patria is your mistress; but don't you need anything to get the night over with?"

There are a whole lot more statements and questions that were offered to Enjolras but everything that he heard was, "Enjolras, Enjolras, and Enjolras" and much as it was a nuisance; it was an irritation. "There is a time for everything, and a time for us to decide where we really side on." He said something that meant silence for everyone. He was serious, and so they are now. "Are you people even aware of the risks of the rebellion that is about to come?" he stared at them, a soul-piercing gaze. "Is this simply a game for you boys took interest in to play?" he now looked at each one of them; one by one. "On how close we are each day to this promised change?" the boys received realization and an unannounced entrance comes in.

"Listen, someone has something to say," Courfeyrac mentioned, placing his pat on little Gavroche's back. "Messieurs, General Lamarque; he's dead." He said in a grave tone.

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**CLIFF HANGER! Reviews are appreciated SO MUCH… stay tuned! Next chapter would be about the barricade! SORRY FOR THE SHORTNESS :(**

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	17. Funeral March

**Update! the story is a bit rushed, but oh well... xD atleast it has an ending! :D ENJOY**

* * *

Enjolras face couldn't be painted; it had a bittersweet sensation that left only one visible statement across the face of the boys that united in understanding, "This is it." They shook their heads in agreement about the revolution that came in sooner than what was expected. "Enjolras, the guns are ready; we have more than what we need." Combeferre broke into the silence as they all started to busy themselves into work. The revolution indeed is here, and it has begun.

Enjolras stood still in front of all the boys chattering about the support of the masses and one thing came into his mind; "It is the turn of the wretched to be free; and equality to roam." But by the mention of the wretched, a little unwanted thought crossed his thoughts; Eponine. _Where was she? Why did she never appear again? Like a ghost she appears on Cafe Musain; and like a ghost, she disappears from my flat._ Enjolras was plunged into deep thought, a thought wherein a person becomes so dependent of another; that his system was no longer like before when that person disappears. "Enjolras," that other half that you seek, despite that you shared nothing but disputes; you will continue to seek them. "Enjolras," that every time you peek out to see if that person was in her room; you fail to see nothing but a clean sheet of mattress and well-arranged books.

"Enjolras!" screamed Combeferre as he continued to call the attention Enjolras, and succeeded. Enjolras stared at him, eyes passing through Combeferre's body and into the blank and invisible space. His thoughts were only relieved when Combeferre mouthed the word Lamarque; now all the consciousness has flowed back. And he began to sparkle in glory yet again, "Lamarque is dead, his death is the sign that we awaited for the longest of times. Today, we will speak out to the masses, and tomorrow; we will gather the society along with their rallying cries," He stood at a closer proximity, in the middle of the boys, "When whispers die, shouts and cries needs to be heard."

* * *

When everything was settled and the day was almost over, everyone went into their respective shelters, including Enjolras. The warm breeze of the spring's air brushed across Enjolras' face, leaving a golden lock covering his brow. His steps were warm, it was soft but it left troubling and unsure footprints towards the pavements leading him back to his garret.

The moment Enjolras reached his doorstep; he pulled out the keys from his pocket and opened the door, somehow still expecting a scrawny figure sitting alone in his crimson couch. But failed to see one, _it's been a month, Enjolras, a month. _He moved upstairs and checked the other side of his flat, still surprised to find no one sleeping in it, _Tomorrow is your most awaited day, focus Enjolras, focus. _He went inside the room, and didn't see the book "Romeo and Juliet", _she's gone, and I gave her the book, keep that in mind Enjolras, keep that in mind. _He went back into his room, and the deafening silence somehow made him search for the blazing arguments, _it's over, Enjolras, over. _His kneecaps ached because of the exhaustion, similar to ache that the old bruises gave him; he scanned for help, but found none. _She's gone, I'm alone, tomorrow's the revolution, I need to focus. _But while saying those, his thoughts never retreated from the mysterious scrawny figure along with her threadbare rags during his dreams.

* * *

Before the sun could rise, and before it could remind him of anything; he woke up. To come to Cafe Musain, to gather the boys together, and once and for all: to free France, his patria.

The moment that he enters Cafe Musain, everything has been busy, their heads were as damp as cotton being dampened by water, their sweats contributed to the new France that's about to form, every guns, muskets and pistols are somehow a symbol of the retribution that's about to approach.

He approached each one of them, asking them if the things they assigned to were fixed; if the battle plans were laid out, if the muskets are ready, if the bullets and the gunpowder are enough, if the people are ready to rise, if the rebel soldiers are ready to turn against the government. True enough, everything was prepared. There are hours remaining before the funeral parade of General Lamarque, and those remaining hours are enough to give them time for the proper formation.

The tears of the people are still inside there, in their hearts, screaming to be heard; the wounds are still very much fresh. Strike while the iron is hot.

The people started forming; some are in the funeral of General Lamarque, some are left in the supposed-to-be barricades, in which they are supposed to wait for the order from the boys if the barricade shall be built. Everything is prepared.

As soon as the parade started to strike their percussion and march along the road of Paris, and as soon as the percussion was heard; the revolution started. People started to sing a song in the form of a crescendo; starting from a very minimal tone, to something evidently heard. What they sang is something more like a battle cry than a song; more like a cry for change than an orchestrated tune. And in the middle of the sea of people, Enjolras waved his flag; blocking the big carriage in which General Lamarque's coffin was inside. People followed, raising the flag of their Patria everywhere. The vibrant colours of red, blue and white was everywhere to be seen. Enjolras continues to wave the single coloured red flag that symbolized the revolution. Bourgeois, people, soldiers, rebels and wretched alike joined in unison as the war song increased its volume.

_Long live the Republic._

A soldier of the king that was supposed to be a rebel soldier in facade shot an old woman that had almost nothing to do with the revolution; and so the true revolution has begun. The soldiers that were loyal to King Louis-Philippe braced and fled to re-arrange themselves and collect the troops. Enjolras called everyone to brace themselves and flee to the barricade, and they hasten towards the place where the barricade is to be built.

Everything in Enjolras' sight is in a slow motion, as if he couldn't believe that the time is actually here; that the promised republic is about to be built. That the baby steps that they were taking would make a great milestone in the history of France, he couldn't believe it in some way. He couldn't believe everything that's happening in his sight; that the weapons were being carried from hand to hand, that things are falling off, given by people to create the barricade. Somehow, these things made him smile; but along with that smile is the darker shade of shadow; fear.

He feared that he may not reach the expectation that he has for himself, he fears that the revolution might be a failure similar to those rebellions before it, he fears that he may have caused the deaths of massive people for nothing, he fears that the people my cower before they could even start fighting the government into a physical battle.

* * *

As soon as the barricades were built, worry started to decrease from everyone's mind; they were inside the barricade, practically on watch. Enjolras stood at the middle top of the barricade and placed the waving crimson flag, as the sun shone directly against it. Just like the way it shone on Eponine's hair a month ago, when everything was calm, when he was with the replica of what his country at that moment might have looked like.

Nothing happened for the whole day; but they were on watch. A volunteer who refused to give his name came to the barricade as they opened it. "I heard what they were plotting," that statement from the man was all it took for them to let in the man. "They won't attack this night as you believed they might, they would want to starve you by watching all night." He continued, but a little and brazen voice started to ring all-throughout the barricade, "Little Liar! He's one of the cops, and he calls himself Inspector Javert! Don't believe this man because he's a traito-"before little Gavroche could even continue, the men tied him up and sent him into the tavern as Enjolras silently signalled. "Thank you, little Gavroche," the students exclaimed.

A loud marching was heard from the north, it simply meant nothing but the army. The boys and the volunteers were complete, the gunpowder was near them, and each person had their own musket. The army started to hold their positions and Marius was silently ordering along with Enjolras, "don't waste too much gunpowder, hold your fire til' Enjolras' tells you to fire." He said, in a monotonous commanding tone.

"Who's in there?" the commander of the soldiers screamed, trying to communicate with the ones inside the barricade.

"French Revolution,"

The manner that it was said was nothing special; it was more like a normal screaming reply in the maximum volume of pitch. But it also had the emotion, the emotion of finishing something that you started. The emotion of the statement, "It's here," and "It's finally here." Enjolras knew for a fact that saying it that soon would start everything; his victory and his defeat, no, the people's victory and the people's defeat.

"Fire!"

That word was all that was heard before all the deafening shots that were aimed towards the barricade. It was that word that is the result of its prerequisite, and it commanded each opposing sides to begin the battle. The army was marching forward and shooting with the best that they can; the boys were replacing their gun powders.

* * *

**Sounds like a gun fight is about to ensuee! **

**REVIEWS!**


	18. NOTE

Sooo! Due to lack of feedbacks, I'm planning to put this fic down... Since I've also noticed numerous amounts of error along the way.

Well I am going to remake this some time later.

Be sure to check out my new fic! It's a lil better


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